Love Guru
by Etched In Fire
Summary: 11 ALW - After the disbanding of the Star Fox team, Slippy has found himself in the new colonies situated on Aquas and confronted with a dilemma he has not faced in years - romance. Meanwhile, still bitter about her breakup with Fox, Krystal is facing her own troubles in the form of a persistent black cat...
1. The First Report

The First Report

He wasn't sure why he was shaking. He had been shaking since he saw her across the restaurant, wiping up a gooey mess on one of the tables. Oh, sure, it had not been the most romantic thing he had seen. But something about the way she smiled and walked made him feel alight. Each nerve was tingling. His heart thudded in his earholes. When she had looked his way, he had ducked down below his menu—not a terribly hard thing to do, as the diner seemed to serve anything the imagination could come up with, and the frog was not terribly tall. The clicking of her shoes into the back was what signaled him to resurface, peering about with cautious cerulean eyes. He was scared. He was excited. He was _so many things at once!_

And for the first time in years, Slippy Toad was smitten.

It had been awhile since he had fallen for a girl. When he had been in the Flight Academy, there had been Bella Croakella—a foolish girl, now that he recalled. Not at all his type, but the first to ever show interest. Maybe that was why he had pursued it… There had been little to no chemistry between them at all. Not that it had mattered in the end—when Fox had come with his proposal to re-create the Star Fox team and Slippy had said yes, Croakella had broken it off… and last Slippy heard, she had found a guy immediately after (an unfortunate bullfrog) and they had married soon after the Lylat Wars were done.

After that, his eyes had been on his ships and on the maintenance of the Great Fox. … Not that it particularly mattered anymore. After Fox and Krystal's blowout, the team had scattered across the four winds. Peppy had been called in to fill in for General Pepper during his prolonged absence. Falco had been reluctant to leave, but Fox's slump had prevented them from working cohesively. Fox's temper had flared from the friction and, finally, they broke apart entirely. Falco went his own way and last Slippy had heard from him, he had been bar hopping in Katina City. Fox had adapted a vagrant existence, drifting among the planets of the Lylat System and scarcely keeping contact. Slippy heard from him perhaps every other week, but his messages were so brief that the frog had begun to worry that perhaps not all was well with his friends.

 _Well, at least he has ROB for company… If he even knows how to repair him when he needs to go down for maintenance._

As for Slippy, who had decided to help with the Aquas Colonization Project, well… He was managing just fine. His father had given him a job at the new Space Dynamics headquarters in the fledgling Coral City, which was scarcely a city at all despite its status as the planet's capital. But Slippy was trying his best to remedy that!

 _I just hope all of the nasty sea creatures are not interested in trying to eat this place. Floating cities are neat and all, but geesh!_ He didn't want to think about what was below the watery surface.

Working at Space Dynamics had garnered enough cash to rent an apartment, and that was where Slippy Toad had stationed himself for his stay on Aquas. He had brought few things over from the Great Fox, the first being his old laptop, with video messaging thankfully still installed. A few other knick-knacks he had brought with him to decorate his apartment, but for the most part, the walls had remained quite barren. He couldn't bring himself to put up photos of the team. It made him a bit too tear-eyed to even look at them.

His laptop rang, as if on cue, and Slippy hurried over to see who was messaging him. When he read that the message was coming from Katina City, he let out a small gasp—of both horror and excitement.

 _It'll be her._ He gulped. _Well… Here goes…_

A click later and he was staring into Krystal's face.

"Hello," the blue vixen blinked. From what he gathered, she was in a dormitory-styled room, a mere prison cell compared to the suite he was renting. "I heard you needed some help?" Her voice sounded different- _stiffer-_ but the smile was the same.

 _I wish I knew more girls than my best friend's ex-girlfriend. I've hardly kept in contact since they fought. We all used to be such good friends, but still… It's weird talking to the old gang now!_ When he realized he had referred to them as the "old gang", he withered a bit inside.

"Um yeah!" The cordial, albeit nervous, frog's head bobbed up and down. "I have a bit of a problem actually. A bit of a um… Uh…"

"A problem? And you're sure _I_ could help?"

 _Geez, where do I even begin?_

"Well, you see… Uhhh…"

Fumble, fumble, awkward. He had never been good at talking about his feelings. Where words should have come out, there was only awkward mumbling—a chorus of "eeehhhh" and "wellllllll" and "uhhhhhhh" that sounded more like another dialect than a coherent sentence.

"So you've met a girl," Krystal stated with the slight dip of her head, "I fail to see how this is problematic."

"Whoa, can you read minds from that far away?" Slippy asked, aghast. "Speaking of which, where _are_ you?"

"Don't be absurd, Slippy. It was merely a good guess," the blue vixen retorted, but was unable to hide a smile, "And I'm on Katina, in the capital, to be more specific. General Peppy has given me a job in the Cornerian Defense Force… for the time being."

"Oh! Y-yeah, I guess I had heard something about that… But um! Do you have your own fighter yet? C-can I see her…?" Slippy asked.

"I do. I'll send some photos the next time I take her for a spin, how does that sound?" Krystal asked.

"Sure! I-I assume that's okay… Speaking of okay, how have you been? Is everything going okay?" Slippy felt himself wither further at the sentence. _Of course everything isn't okay. The gang split! The gang's toast! Falco's probably drunk in an alleyway somewhere, Fox is losing himself in the middle of nowhere, I'm working for my dad, and Krystal's… Krystal's a soldier now…_

Her smile faltered—subtly, but he still could see it. "But this chat isn't about me, is it? It's about you and your…" The vixen's lips twisted coyly. " _Problem._ "

No doubt that he reminded her of Fox and their failed relationship… but was talking about romance going to deeply hurt her? Was this conversation just going to remind her of what she had lost? Suddenly, he was hesitant, nibbling at his lower lip in thought. _I've already called her. There's no reason to back down now, I guess…_ he thought, but something inside twisted into a knot as he looked up at the screen.

"Um… her name is… Amanda," Slippy began.

"And?"

"Um… She's pink."

"What do you know about her? How did you two meet?"

And there it was, the crack in his armor. A dawning of horrific realization.

" _Oh,_ " and suddenly, the green frog was back at a loss for words, leaving the vixen to stare at his agape mouth and grapefruit-sized eyes.

"You… You've _talked_ to her, right?" Krystal asked him, ears flicking back and brows raising.

"Um… not exactly…?" Slippy confessed. "I um… I really didn't think about… that…"

"You didn't think about _talking_ to the person you are crushing over?" Krystal blinked.

"Hey, you say it like it's an easy thing to do!" Slippy exclaimed, "And y-y'know, now that I think about it, I think I did say something to her. I think I said, "I'll take the omelette"! That counts, right?"

"You told her to get you an omelette?" There was rising outrage in her voice mixed with confusion.

"She works at a diner!"

"Ah, that makes more sense… She was your waitress?"

"Yeah…"

"And you said her name was… Amanda?"

"Yeah!"

"… That's it? That's all you know?"

"Well…"

He did not even need to finish. Krystal leaned back in her chair, tucking her hands into her cream and green jacket. "I'm going to give you an assignment, Slippy. And you're going to report back to me once you're done."  
 _Assignment? Report? What is she even talking about…_

The blue vixen propped her chin on her curled fist, leaning against the surface of the desk. "You're going to find out something new about her every time you see her. Find out what kind of flower she likes. Find out how to make her laugh. Find out where she's from. I don't care what the information is, so long as it is relevant to _her_."

"But I'm bad at talking to girls," he found himself whining.

"You're talking to me, aren't you?" Krystal asked with the slight tilt of her head. "Think of it as a mission." There was a pause on her lips before she added, quieter this time, "Like the ones we used to go on." But something about flying Arwings through blizzards seemed so much simpler than this. The chaos of the Lylat Wars was simpler than this. His stomach churned and growled loudly in protest.

"I didn't want to remind you of—"

"What's done is done. I think of those days often. One phone call changes nothing," Krystal's voice hardened, but something still seemed so fragile about the topic. "You've got your mission, Slippy Toad. And you're going to complete it without fail. I know you can do it."

"I called for advice, not for homework…" Slippy began.

"And this is my advice. You can't date someone if you don't know them," Krystal said with a simple shrug and Slippy was reminded yet again of Bella Croakella and her teary breakup. _I didn't know her, I guess. We dated but… looking back on it, I don't think I even knew where she came from. Or what she was studying at the academy…_

"I guess you're right," the frog relented. "When do I need to report by?"

"Hm… you have a week," Krystal replied with a wry smirk, "And don't be late!"

 _I never thought I'd see her like this. She used to be a quiet, thoughtful person. Kind. Passionate about helping others. But there's an edge to her that's different. She's more confident… or something._

"I promise, I won't be!" He wished he had her resolve. He wished he had her faith in him. "I'll call you in a week!"

"You do that," the blue vixen nodded to him, "Until then, Slippy." A click of the button and the screen went black, leaving the frog to his thoughts.

 _A week. A week to go talk to her. I have to find out something about her. Anything… Maybe I could ask her what her favorite food off the menu is? Does that even count? Oh gosh… What if she doesn't have a favorite food? No… that's dumb. Everyone likes food. Geez, this is gonna be harder than flying through Solar! Why can't talking to girls be easy? Why does talking to girls… involve talking!_

* * *

She turned in her chair, glancing back towards the small bed in the corner. Thank heavens that she had gotten a room to herself—the privacy was nice, though it only seemed to contribute to her recluse status in the CDF. It made for a nice place to get away from the glares and whispers, however. She dared not extend her telepathy outside of the room, fearing what the others were thinking of her. Fearing what they were saying. Fearing that they _knew her little secret_ …

Meanwhile, her sheets moved and rustled, and the vixen tossed a glance over at the shirtless feline, his ebony fur rustled up from slumber. "How was your… business call?" Panther Caroso purred, blinking his golden eyes awake. "I was a good kitty and kept quiet while you were talking."

"It's a miracle the officers haven't found you in here yet," Krystal huffed, folding her arms across her chest. "This is a terribly dangerous place to be. For you, that is."

"It's no fun without some possibility of incarceration," Panther licked his lips, "Though, I do grow weary of dodging the guards constantly. Have you considered Wolf's offer? For a spot on the team?"

"Yes," Krystal said carefully, "And I know you're harassing me because he's harassing you. He wants a fourth pilot and he can't find any that will have anything to do with him."

"Wolf is impatient. I, however, am the most patient cat you'll meet," Panther propped his head up with a hand. "So take your time, dear. This dorm is charming in its own way, even if it is a bit… ah… _cramped_."

"This is not an easy thing you ask of me," Krystal said flatly, "To join Star Wolf would be to commit treason against Corneria. Against Peppy…" _And Slippy. And Falco… And… Fox…_ But every time she thought of him, nails raked against her heart. She could scarcely bear to think of his face without wanting to scream and cry.

"Again, take your time, dear… We've all the time in the world," Panther purred, "Or perhaps you could use some convincing? I could think of a few ways to…"

"You're an incredibly forward man, I'll have you know. And ruthless," Krystal said, a smirk about her features. "If you're going to try to convince me, you'll have to bring an incredibly good argument to the table. Otherwise… the guards are just one shout away."

He grinned toothily in reply, rising from the small dorm bed and letting the blankets fall off of his mostly naked form. "I love a challenge." His breath was a warm growl in her face, but she welcomed it all the same.


	2. Head Over Heels

**A special note from the author:**

Good morning. It's been brought to my attention that some people evidently don't like Krystal/Panther as a ship. That's fine. There are plenty of other fics out there for you to read. This is a fic that was clearly labeled Panther x Krystal, flagged as mature, and has been classified as romance. So obviously, those topics are going to be explored. So don't act shocked and appalled when it happens- the tagging/description doesn't lie. _**If you don't like that, then please don't read the story.**_ It's not meant for anti-shippers, it's meant to weave together my interpretation of what happened prior to Star Fox Command, namely how Krystal ends up on Star Wolf, as well as go further into depth on Panther's character.

Anyways, that pretty much sums up my thoughts on the surprising amount of flack I've received about this fic over the last few hours. For those of you wanting to read this, please enjoy part two and know that part three is close to being completed.

Thanks!

* * *

Head Over Heels

Slippy set about to his homework right away through the only means he knew how; he began searching the Lylatian Web for advice on how to talk to girls. He rummaged through the various websites, a notebook laying on his desk with a pen in hand fervently scribbling down advice. After the second hour of his frantic writing, his hand began to cramp and so he decided to step away from his desk for a time. He grabbed his keys and walked out of his apartment, making sure he locked the door on his way out.

Coral City was a connection of buildings protruding from the dark blue waters and his apartment was no different; it rose from the ocean supported by metallic pillars and a massive platform to keep it afloat. He did not like to think of the implications of what was beneath his feet as he walked down the corridor, through the lobby, and to the fresh outside, but his mind did stray to the depths below. He thought of Baccoon's primal cruelty, the ancient ruins that bespoke a grim fate to those who desired to settle the water planet, and he thought of his former team's last mission beneath the waves. Slippy gave a shiver and began down the steps of his apartment, glancing out across the stilled ocean that stretched forever.

A few fish leapt out, splashing back down after brief respites from the cold water. Slippy was just glad they were small, not like the things that his father told him that lurked in the far depths. He smiled, feeling Lylat's rays upon his skin and giving a stretch. Fries sounded like a nice treat for his efforts and so he wandered down towards the diner. He breathed a sigh of relief that the diner was open and walked in…

… to an absolute disaster.

At the counter were two burly men—a weasel and a salamander. Their sleeves had been ripped off purposefully as a stylistic choice, revealing arms that had been covered from shoulder to wrist with ink. Slippy did not fancy himself a judgmental person—he had been willing to overlook their roguish attire, but when they turned to face him, he felt his confidence wither… and his rage broil.

The salamander had Amanda by the collar, his hands curled into fists. She was suspended above the ground, the ribbons of her citrine bow streaming behind her. Wordlessly, she gazed at Slippy with her mouth partially agape, sapphire eyes pleading with him. The weasel elbowed his friend roughly, gesturing at Slippy with a growl in his breath.

 _Ohhh this better not be what I think it is…!_

" 'Ey! Whatchoo doin' here, froggy-boy?" the weasel began, crinkling his snout. "Doncha know this ain't the place you wanna be right now?"

"N-no! I… I think it is!" Slippy said, gaze darting between the weasel, salamander, and the helpless Amanda. His anger swelled in his chest, hands turning to fists at his sides. He had never been the strongest of the team, but he had not made it to Corneria's prestigious flight academy on luck alone. "Put her down!"

 _I can't believe this is happening… Where are the police? The other guests at the diner? The other staff members?_

"This is a hold up—and that's what I'm gonna do _. Hold her up!_ " the salamander snapped at him, jostling Amanda slightly as he spoke for emphasis. "Now do what my buddy here says! Or you're gonna be fish food!"

"I said to put her down!" Slippy repeated himself, puffing out his small chest to make his less-than-impressive stature somewhat less laughable. It seemed to have no effect, however.

"Now listen 'ere, ya pond-hopper, I'm gonna give ya three seconds ta turn an' walk away… if ya don't…" the weasel said, leaning forward with a maddened look in his dark eyes. "Yer gonna regret it!"

Inwardly, Slippy quivered with fear, knowing that he was far from great at hand-to-hand combat. He had left his blaster in his apartment, his license to carry having expired a few months ago before he had even moved to Aquas. The frog kept his fists tight at his sides even as the weasel approached him, jabbing a claw at his chest. His dark blue eyes stayed forward, his lips pursed as he tried to contain his rage.

But it could not be held back any longer, not as the weasel gave him another jab.

His fist met the thug's gut and with a surprisingly long-distanced hop, he closed in on the salamander, his other fist prepared to swing. The salamander dropped Amanda at once, turning to square up with the feisty frog. Tail lashing, the thuggish amphibian knocked over a few glasses on the counter, his mouth bared in a sneer at Slippy's reckless charge.

"C'mon froggy, let's do this!" the salamander roared. Slippy saw nothing but his jeering face as he leapt again, throwing a wild hit at his jaw. The salamander dodged to the right, grabbing Slippy by his collar and throwing him onto a nearby table. A few dishes crumbled under his weight, making an awful noise as they shattered. Beyond the cacophony, he could hear Amanda gasp.

The salamander's fist met his cheek and Slippy endured the hit with a grimace. He thrashed under the salamander's weight, his weasel friend regaining his composure somewhere off to their left. Slippy kicked out at the salamander to no avail, fearing he would meet his end under the pummeling of hands. He saw Amanda move in a rose-colored flash behind him, whacking the salamander with a serving tray. A second hit warded the thug away for a moment but the weasel was suddenly behind her, lifting her up and throwing her aside. Her bow fell from her head.

"Ugh, these damn frogs…!" the weasel hissed.

Slippy tackled the weasel then, head-butting him in the stomach. Air was knocked clean from the weasel's maw and as he tried to recover, he sent a flurry of claws onto Slippy's nose. Recoiling, Slippy stumbled back, grabbing at the fresh cut on his nose and feeling the warmth of blood as it began to ooze from him. The salamander was back within seconds, grabbing Slippy and hoisting him overhead.

"Ugh, send him overboard! I hate do-gooders…!" the weasel barked at the salamander, who marched the thrashing Slippy through the doors and towards the railing.

 _Overboard!?_ The frog thought in panic, looking at the salamander pleadingly. He twisted and turned in the thug's grasp but it was futile; the salamander was simply too strong. Struggling, Slippy tried to get a glimpse of what was happening back at the diner, yet it was all in vain. The salamander teetered near the railing and Slippy glanced down at the churning waves below with an 'eep!' of terror.

"No…!" Amanda could be heard somewhere in the distance, along with the clatter of more dishes being broken. But her protests did not matter as Slippy was thrown over the railing of the floating walkway, freefalling towards the midnight water and its brisk touch.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" shrieked Slippy in likely his most ungraceful moment, his limbs flailing about in the air.

When he hit the water, he struck the surface with his back first. Spread-eagle, he sank a few inches before raising back up. Water splashed in his eyes but he blinked it away, thankful he had been forced into swimming lessons ever since he was a tiny tadpole. He stared up at the Coral City walkway above, the sunlight a warm contrast to the icy cold water that was quickly seeping into his clothes.

 _I always was the best swimmer on the team… but I can't keep this up forever._

The waves bobbed the frog up and down as he hurriedly looked for a help from the walkway. He did not have to wait long; sirens began to play loud over the intercoms and Amanda's head peered down at him, waving vigorously.

"Just hang on!" She called down to him and he waved back at her.

"I'll try!" Slippy yelled back.

Despite how chilling the water felt on his skin, there was warmth that radiated in his chest—She was okay! A smile spread across his face, unfaltering and indestructible. He felt as light as feathers, as though he could leap clear from the ocean and back into safety. Dazed on cloud nine, he sank back into the waters until his shoulders had dipped beneath the surface, leaving his head exposed to the ocean breeze. He gave a tiny shiver from the cold but waited as a few more heads peered over the railing at him. A ladder was thrown towards him and he swam to it.

"Are you hurt?" Amanda could be heard calling from above.

"I don't think so!" Slippy replied, seizing the ladder with one hand. He looked back up at her, marveling at the way Lylat's rays illuminated her silhouette like a full-bodied halo. Her sapphire eyes were doused with the remnants of tears, her rose-colored hands clasped together near her chest. For a moment, he wondered if she knew how beautiful she was.

… and then something underwater bumped his foot and Slippy scaled the ladder in record time, landing onto the walkway after a stunning leap. He slipped immediately, crashing to the ground bum first. The rescuers and Amanda stared down at him with shock and awe and he glanced up to them apologetically.

"S-sorry about that!" He scratched the back of his head, fear giving way to embarrassment. Slippy smiled at them both, feeling a wave of relief at not being made into fish food after all.

"That… that was quite the jump!" Amanda said, her own surprise fading into delight. She smiled at him, offering her hand. "Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"P-positive!" Slippy answered, eyes trailing down her arm and to the hand she offered to him. He hesitated to take it, but his shaking fingers found hers all the same. With surprising strength, she hoisted him upright and Slippy felt where they had touch come alight with nerves. He was certain he was blushing now and he absent-mindedly tugged at his crimson bandana, which seemed to be making it hard to breathe ever so suddenly.

"We can do a check up on him if you're concerned, ma'am," said one of the rescuers, donned in a navy blue Cornerian Defense Force – Aquas Unit attire. He was a tall-statured Dalmatian with a pinched-feature face and a permanent scowl. "We'll need both of you for questioning regardless."

"Q-questioning!?" Slippy yelped, throwing his hands up over his head protectively. "B-but we didn't do anything wrong…?" _I forgot, I'm a citizen now. I guess I can't be running head first into trouble anymore… I still have ties to the military and government, but I'm retired from that life now…_

"We just want to know what happened. You're not gonna get detained overnight or anything," the CDF officer retorted.

Another CDF officer came by and escorted Amanda away. Before she disappeared back into the diner, she cast a look back at Slippy, clutching her hands together tightly near her breast out of nerves. A flicker of a smile rested on her lips before she departed. Slippy sat down on a nearby bench next to the officer, though he happened to glance over as the thuggish weasel and salamander were put into the back of one of the officer's ships.

 _Huh, I guess someone heard the commotion and called for help…_

The debriefing session was over before he knew it. His adrenaline had waned and he found himself exhausted by the time that the CDF officer dismissed him. He sat on the bench for a few more moments, resting his back heavily against it before he talked himself into going home, knowing that Amanda likely had a lot to deal with. Slippy touched his sopping wet outfit and decided a bath was in order; he would have loved to stay to help clean up the diner but he knew he would have just tracked more water and dirt into the building. He shivered his entire way back to his apartment, wringing out his clothes before tossing them into the laundry bin as soon as he made it home.

When he had taken his bath and had donned a dry set of clothes, he plopped down in his desk chair, rubbing his forehead with a dreary sigh. A few bruises had sprouted on his skin, but they were nothing compared to what he used to get back at the Flight Academy when the instructors were not looking. He thought to call Krystal but the moment he opened his messaging app, he found himself too tired to make even internal sentences. Slippy closed his laptop with a sigh and plopped down on the bed. He was almost asleep when his stomach gave a growl… and he realized he never got those fries.

* * *

The way he slammed her back into the wall sent chills down her spine. His hand found her throat, running a finger down her slender jawline as his hips pressed into hers. A delighted purr resonated from his partially agape mouth, his hungering amber eyes crawling over her partially exposed body. His other hand traced down her neck, toying with her bra strap with growing mischievousness. She let one of her hands grab the top of his, stroking his fur gently. Panther's other hand kept a hold of her neck, fingers cupping the back of her head. His claws danced over her fur and skin, nipping playfully.

"Do you yield?" he teased her and she relented with a small nod.

He released her and backed a step. The absence of his body heat felt like torture but the vixen remained stoic as she recovered. Her hands touched where he had held her. It took a few deep breaths for her heart to begin to slow its excited pace and she dragged her turquoise gaze to the not-entirely-unwelcome squatter.

"That's another victory for me, dear," Panther smirked. They played this game too often for her liking; he would get feisty at least once a day and she would have to indulge his persistent behavior. She feared her neighbors were suspicious of the thudding and thumping… but it was not like she had not seen some of the other ladies of the floor take wide-eyed cadets into their dorms. But, Krystal supposed that was different than taking a wanted criminal to bed.

Panther loomed over her, tail dancing back and forth with anticipation. "I think I get to choose which article of clothing comes off next…" His finger curled around her bra strap again.

"I think not," the vixen retorted, pulling away from him and grabbing her discarded pants on the floor. "I was not ready when you tackled me."

"Then pay attention," Panther chided her tauntingly, lounging back onto her bed. "And actually _try_ to defeat me this next time."

Krystal paused at that, only one of her legs through the leg hole in her pants. Brow furrowed, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Her ears went back as she asked, "What do you mean by that?"

"I have had the privilege to dance with many a man and woman in my life. I know when one is being…" His tail curled and flicked rhythmically. "… _restrained_."

She rolled her eyes at him, zipping her pants up. Krystal did not look back at him; she focused on the mirror hanging on her wall, fixing her unruly cobalt locks. It was hard to meet her reflection's gaze, feeling its judgement upon her mostly bared torso. She pulled a simple violet shirt from a nearby hanger and donned it with churning regret in her stomach.

 _How long will we keep this up? How long until someone else from the barracks gets a little too nosy…?_

And, even more troubling.

 _How long until I yield to his request? How long until I break…?_

She knew he would never hurt her, not in this setting where she was so utterly _vulnerable_. She was his quarry in more than one way. And he would not stop until he had her.

"Tell me I am wrong," Panther goaded her conflicted emotions.

"I do not think you will find me like most others you meet," Krystal answered briskly, turning to face him with as much stoicism as she could manage.

"You are not. But you are like me," Panther replied.

 _Surely he's not alluding to…?_

"I doubt that," Krystal said carefully.

"You would be surprised," Panther remarked, sitting upright. "Or are you referring to your Cerinian heritage?"

She paused, weighing his words carefully. Tension lay thick in the room's atmosphere, suffocating and cold. Krystal knew the game she played was dangerous but since the day she had left the Great Fox, she had felt like throwing all sense of caution into the wind. The decision was made rashly, and all warning signs told her not to go down that route. But, bitterness close to heart and recklessness in her blood, Krystal dared to tempt fate.

"Don't you mean _our_ heritage?" came the words she had wanted to say since the day she had met him at Sargasso.

Panther's laugh was genuine. It started low in his stomach and rumbled outward, clear as thunder on a spring afternoon, dripping with purity and delight. He ran one of his massive hands over his head, smoothing his ebony fur back. She was hesitant to reach out to him with her telepathy but dared to do so anyways, feeling the faintest glow of excitement emanating from his mind, tinged with a darker melancholy. Beyond that, the emotions he felt were stifled, blocked crudely from her sight. She withdrew her unseen reach from him, shifting her weight. His amber gaze dragged upwards to her, filled with knowing.

" _Je oei dekasot_ [So you noticed]," he spoke in their native tongue, where there was no accent. He rose from the bed, stopping only when his shadow fell upon her stoic face. Panther reached out to touch her cheek, his palms warm to the touch. " _Mo touh, no xulo u cek ke tajsijj_ [My dear, we have a lot to discuss.]."


	3. Motion

Motion

The next day came with sunshine and a suspiciously gleeful rainbow arcing over Coral City. Slippy awoke feeling quite sore from his scrap the day before and stumbled out of bed. A gander into his mirror and he saw that he was sporting a few violet bruises. He touched one on his right cheekbone tenderly, wincing when the skin around it crackled to life in pain. His veins seemed inflamed slightly and his face seemed to radiate heat. Though he could not tell if the warmth was due to the Aquan heat or due to the wounds, Slippy decided a cold shower was definitely in order. He stripped and sidled into the shower, wincing as his aches and pains awoke.

 _Geez! They really didn't pull their punches yesterday!_

After his shower, he donned a simple yellow shirt, some jeans, and threw his crimson cap on. He thought to wander outside for fresh air, but realized he had not checked his emails yet. The frog gave a sigh and walked over to his desk, dreading what trivial problems people had brought to his inbox. At the top of his list was a message from his Uncle Grippy, titled "Goras Found On Corneria – Live Video! Share With 10 Friends Or It Will Eat Your Parents!". Slippy promptly deleted it along with the second email, which was titled, "Hot Aquan Singles In Your Area"—evident spam mail that Slippy did not even care to open.

The next email was work-related, discussing the implementation of a railway system that connected the various Aquan colonies. It was something that his father had forwarded to him to look over. Despite how intriguing the idea sounded, Slippy found the words too dizzying to read, his mind straying after every other sentence. His fingers drummed an unsteady rhythm against the desk and his feet kicked lightly with thought.

After the third attempt to read the same passage he had been staring at blankly for ten minutes, Slippy decided to give up on work for the moment. He rested his face against the cold surface of his desk, breathing out the tension in his stout body. Amanda lingered on his mind, no matter how hard he tried to focus on other things. It was as though something unseen was pulling him towards her. Maybe it was fate…?

Slippy had never really thought about fate too much. Life always just seemed to pull him in the direction he needed to go and he followed without much questioning. Perhaps that was just his style; he did not like to resist things that seemed inevitable. Seeing Amanda again felt inevitable. He wondered if the diner would be open since there had been so much damage to the windows. Nearly squirming in his chair from curiosity, he told himself to at least finish going through his emails before running off to another (potential) adventure.

When he had finished sifting through his inbox, he pushed himself away from his desk. Sunlight filtered through between the blinds hung near his window, sparkling with promise. Despite his bruises, Slippy smiled. He hopped from his chair, wobbling a few steps before he made it to the front door. He grabbed his keys, slipped on some sneakers, and headed out the door.

The skies were bright, cloudless blue. Lylat shimmered down on the sapphire waters below Coral City, making diamond-like sparkles glisten amid the dark blue. Foam-crested waves rolled in the distance, churning in a soothing melody that soothed his quick-beating heart. He was not one to prance but he could not deny the skip in his step as he made his way to the diner. Slippy made it down the stairs, feeling the crisp breeze off the water trail over his skin. It was not enough to wake him from his thought-ridden daze. Usually he would have stopped to admire the scenery, but the fresh air hit him alongside the realization that he needed to start planning what his next step was. Simply walking into the diner would not suffice!

 _Okay, I'm down a day but no big deal. I can make up for that information today. I'll ask her how she's feeling. Yeah, that sounds good. Er… wait. What if she thinks I'm being too nosy? I should try to get to know her a bit better… Things about HER, not about what happened. Besides, she could still be upset about those mean guys. And I don't wanna make her upset! What else could I ask her about? Oh! I'll ask her about where she's from! Yeah! That's a good start. Maybe she's from Corneria too. That'd be a good way to start a conversation. Err… well, most frogs are from Zoness though. Is that a stupid question? What if she thinks I'm stupid for asking that? Gahhhh! Why does this have to be so complicated?_

He thought long and hard about it, rubbing at his wide chin. Would it seem too weird to ask that? He supposed their little incident yesterday had functioned as an ice breaker (more or less), but was that enough to jump into a topic that was so personal? Slippy's mind raced for a new topic as he walked.

 _No, I'll just ask her how she's feeling. No need to overthink this. It's a perfectly normal thing to ask! Right? Right?_ He challenged any naysaying bits of himself to speak up and nothing did. With a small amount of satisfaction, Slippy marched up the sidewalk towards the diner. He reached the door and began to turn the knob when the sign nearby caught his eye.

"CLOSED" read a sign hanging where the window ought to have been. Boards had been put in place to conceal the interior of the diner from the rampant gales and water that were so often sprayed onto the decks of Coral City. Slippy's hand fell to his side, his mouth creasing into a large, dismayed frown.

"Oh," he said then turned away from the door.

 _Well, I guess that makes sense._

Sullenly, he made his way back to his apartment, opening the door, kicking it shut carelessly, and flopping onto his bed face-first. He sighed and pulled out his phone. No new text messages. He checked Barker, a Lylatian social media platform he mostly looked at for the funny pictures and occasional family updates. Nothing new there. He scrolled through the apps on his phone, his face halfway shoved into the fluff of his white pillow.

 _I miss the days when I could barely keep up with everything happening. Now it just seems like it's been such a rut lately. I answer emails, I do what my dad wants. And sure, Coral City is great. But it's not Corneria. And it's definitely not the Great Fox._

He sighed. All good things eventually came to an end, but he was not sure why Star Fox had to end the way it had. Fox came to mind and Slippy checked to see when the last time Fox had even texted him back. He scrolled through and found his conversation with Fox—dated two weeks ago. With a sigh, he shot his standard, "Hey, hope you're doing okay!" text to his best friend and then proceeded to bury the rest of his face into his pillow with a dreary sigh.

 _Well, today's turned out to be a bust. I'm not gonna get to see her today. And I don't feel like doing any of my work either. I just want fries and a milkshake. Why does life have to be so cruel?_

He knew he was being melodramatic but he could not help himself. His shoulder and back aching from yesterday's scrap were also doing little to help his mood. Slippy turned his head slightly and looked back at his phone, swiping through the apps. His thumb hovered over the pictures he had stored on his phone and, with great regret, clicked on the app that held them.

Most of the newer ones were of Aquas and Coral City. Slippy had taken pictures of his view out his bedroom window to send to Fox, Krystal, Peppy, and Falco—separately, of course. Once he scrolled through the newer stuff, he found a few pictures from their last adventure on Sauria. It was the last leisurely trip they had taken as a group. Krystal and Fox were together in the middle, Slippy next to Fox and Falco next to Krystal. Tricky was behind them, grinning. Cape Claw's cascades were the backdrop and the warmth that radiated from the picture was so strong that Slippy could almost feel it.

The next picture was a selfie Slippy had taken with the Chief Lightfoot. The Chief was looking at the camera in bewilderment. After that was a picture overlooking the misty woods surrounding the Lightfoot Village. The next picture was Falco's hand getting stuck in the Scarab Toll Receiver, along with Krystal trying to pry the statue's mouth open with her staff while Fox and Tricky laughed in the backdrop. After that was a picture of Thorntail Hollow. Krystal and Fox were standing in a circle of flowers, where Fox had found her staff all those years ago. The loving look they shared transcended words. Slippy quickly scrolled past it, to the next photo, which was of the Shopkeeper Shabunga of Thorntail Hollow. He was eyeing the camera in extreme curiosity and delight. Slippy vaguely recalled the strange dinosaur trying to purchase it off of him many times. After that was another group photo with the WarpStone, who was asleep. Tears stung the edges of his eyes as he continued through the pictures. A shuddering sigh escaped his slightly agape mouth.

His phone beeped with a notification and he saw that Fox had texted him back. Excitedly sitting up, Slippy clicked on the notification, which brought him to his texting app. The text was brief, but said the following:

" _Doing good. On a job for Peppy. On Macbeth now."_

Slippy tilted his head. Macbeth, huh? That was not too terribly far. He quickly texted Fox: "Sounds fun! Feel free to swing by Aquas if you get some free time. Would love to get dinner with ya!" And hit send excitedly. He waited for a reply but after five minutes, none came and Slippy sank back onto his bed in melancholy.

 _Guess he really is busy._

Still dwelling his doldrums, he dragged himself to his computer chair and began to go through his inbox. From the mini-fridge near his desk, he pulled out a Cornerian Cola, popped it open, and resolved himself to get some work done. Slippy could not have said that looking at the logistics of building a railway system sounded particularly fun but he supposed he had nothing else better to do.

This became his norm for the next two days as the diner remained closed. It was the providential third day when the diner resumed its business hours and Slippy was there at 11am when it was slated to open. Standing on the porch, his stomach growled with the need for fries and a milkshake—what it had been so cruelly deprived for the last few days.

Amanda was the one who was opening the diner, looking stunned to see him standing there. She hastily fumbled for her keys and Slippy realized in his walk over, he had not planned anything to say to her at all. He had been so used to the diner being closed that he had almost suspected to never see it opened again—a thought that, in hindsight, was incredibly foolish.

"You're here!" Amanda exclaimed as she opened the glass doors. Her usual uniform had been replaced with a peppy looking baby-blue dress with an apron tied around her front. Sitting atop her head was her sunflower-bright ribbon, tied expertly into a broad-petal bow. "Come on in."  
"Thanks!" Slippy said, catching the door so she did not have to hold it open for him. She stepped back to let him enter the restaurant. He stepped in, casting a gander about the diner. It seemed to have reverted to how it had been before. All the glass had been replaced in the windows and the interior was back in order.

"I meant to thank you properly, but they held me for questioning for quite some time," Amanda apologized, hands clasped together at her front. "Nothing bad, of course! They just had some questions about the people who caused that fuss."

"Did you know them?" Slippy asked, turning his attention to her.

"I had seen them stop by before, but no, I did not personally know them," Amanda answered, twirling a strand of her bow's ribbon around a forefinger. "They originally were at the diner to order food. Or so I thought. Before I knew it, they were demanding I hand over the money from the cash register."

"So they were just thieves?" Slippy asked with a head tilt.

"I guess so. Ever since the colonization project began, Aquas has attracted all sorts of individuals. Even the not-so-nice ones came here to find some sort of home," Amanda said. She beckoned for him to follow her to the counter and so he did, toddling after her.

"Well, what about you? Why did you come here?" Slippy inquired lightly, realizing he was asking a lot of questions and simultaneously telling himself not to overthink this.

"Me? Oh, my father moved us here to help with the colonies. He's done a lot of construction projects in his career so he's been helping with Coral City's expansion," Amanda smiled. "I'm not very good at stuff like that, so I thought I'd just help out in the ways I knew I could. Waitressing does not seem like much but the owner of this diner was desperate for help, so I decided to lend him a hand."

"Well, it's nice that you're wanting to help out. I've been helping with the reconstruction project too. My dad actually sent me here to help with a few infrastructure projects," Slippy replied. He let the words come out without thinking too hard on them, feeling a feathery warmth in his chest. This was going surprisingly well! "Say, maybe our dads know each other?"

"Maybe they do," Amanda's sapphire eyes twinkled with thought.

"Oh!" Slippy began, eyes widening with realization. "I… I guess I've never introduced myself before! My name's Slippy. Slippy—"

"Toad. Of the Star Fox team," Amanda finished with her polite, demure smile. "Yes. I know who you are."

"You do!?" Slippy gawked, feeling warmth flush his cheeks. _I… I guess that makes sense. We did kind of save the world a few times. We've been on TV, on the radio, all over the Lylat net…_ "Um… Y-yeah, that's me. W-what's your name?"

"Amanda Rana," the pink frog replied and Slippy felt his blood turn ice cold.

 _Rana._ It was a familiar last name to any who were remotely interested in politics. The Ranas of Zoness were an incredibly influential family that had made a large profit on the Cornerian colonization projects. Their technology had paved the way for some of the underwater cities of Zoness, helping create bountiful tourist locations and places for families to grow and live.

"R-Rana?" Slippy asked, his shock clearly written on his face.

"I see you've heard of us," Amanda replied with a small smile. "Yes. My father is Stephen Rana, the Colonization Director of the Cornerian Empire."

 _The Ranas are some of the richest people in the Lylat System. They've gotta be at least five times richer than Dad after he took the Director position at Space Dynamics. Ohhhh man, ohhh man, I feel like I'm gonna pass out. She's way out of my league!_

"I… Y-yeah, I guess our dads would know each other, then," Slippy said, scratching the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "Space Dynamics is helping with the city defense and public transportation. So I imagine your dad has something to do with that too…!"

"He does," Amanda smiled but there was something distant in her eyes. "He's spoken very highly of you and your dad. I believe he…. Ah! Wait, you must not be here to chat about things like that, huh? You're probably hungry… Did you want something to eat?"

 _Ack! I mean, yeah I'm here to eat, but I was happy to talk…_

"O-oh…" Slippy fumbled. "Yeah! I'd like a milkfries and a shake with ketchup!"

 _Oh that didn't come out right at all._

"I mean ahhh! Milkshake and fries with ketchup!" Slippy corrected himself quickly.

Amanda smiled as she put in his order. Slippy went to fish his wallet out but she shook her head quickly at him. "It's on the house!"

"Y-you sure!?" Slippy gawked.

"It's the least I could do after yesterday," Amanda replied. "You really saved me back there…" Her voice trailed off, angelic smile wavering for a moment. "But I guess that's to be expected from a hero of Star Fox!"

 _A hero of… Oh boy. I thought everyone knew we disbanded._

"F-former hero, sadly. The team isn't really together anymore. B-but maybe that's a good thing. Because… because that's what brought me here…" Slippy replied, feeling his nerves rattle his kneecaps and shiver his words.

"Well, no matter that. I'm still thankful you stopped by that day," Amanda replied, handing him his order number. "Take a seat wherever you'd like. I'll bring it out to you when it's done."

"Thanks, Amanda!" Slippy smiled at her and found himself a booth to sit at.

The door chimed. A family of five newts came in, quickly followed by a couple of hogs, and then three hounds clearly on their lunch break. As the onslaught of customers began, Slippy felt a tiny pang of sympathy for Amanda as the leisurely atmosphere of the diner soon metamorphosed into a veritable cacophony of chatter.

He waited for his fries and shake for a few minutes, watching pityingly as Amanda rang up the customers with surprising fervor. Her smile never faltered—not once. He watched her movements, watched how they reeked with confidence, each word concise. It was everything he could have expected out of a woman of her stature and it made him feel so incredibly small. He wanted to shrivel into the not-quite-cushioned-enough seat of the booth he was at, sliding into the cracks with the discarded straw wrappers and vanish from her sight and mind. Slippy's neck warmed, his face flushing. He tried to hide it with a hand over his wide mouth, but it did little to stave off his growing nerves.

 _Should I give up?_

He contemplated the question, eyes unblinking as he bore a stare into the empty booth in front of him. His fingers rapped the table in off-beat bursts and he felt his knee bounce involuntarily. He almost did not notice Amanda approach him, carrying his shake and fries.

"Your order, Sir!" Her tone was cheery but Slippy was not ignorant of the strained look in her sapphire eyes. She set his order down in front of him, clutching the tray to her chest when she was done. "I hope you enjoy!"

"Thank you, Amanda!" Slippy said earnestly, hoping his voice did not quiver.

She lingered a few moments, her eyes swimming with thought as she looked down at him. Briefly, she tossed a quick glance at the ever-building line to the cashier, before saying to him in a quiet voice, "Will you be here tomorrow?"

"I-I can be!" Slippy said the first thing that came to mind.

The corners of Amanda's mouth curled into a soft smile, one that was banished a split-second later after another look at the growing line. "Ummm…!" She faltered, gaze dancing between him and the line. "C-can you come around 5? I… I would like to talk to you more."

 _She's… she's asking me to meet her…?_

Slippy felt his brain crash in an instant. The world spun, twisting like a fun house. He felt himself nearly topple over in his booth. A hand fell on his shoulder—her hand, its touch a soothing cold that reminded him of the water of a beach. It was refreshing, restoring his senses momentarily.

"Are you all right?" Amanda asked with a furrowed brow.

"AHHHH! S-s-sorry, I… I guess I'm j-just… really hungry…" Slippy stuttered, feeling his cheeks grow hotter than Solar's flares. He adjusted the beads about his nape, his smile laden with his evident nerves.

"Ah! So sorry, I should have realized…" Amanda looked from him to the fries, then back to him. "S-sorry… I will let you eat…"

"No!" Slippy sputtered. "I'm—" _I'm so awkward. So, so awkward._ "I-I-I wanna come by! I… I _will_ come by!"

"G-great!" Amanda exclaimed, her eyes lighting up. "I'll see you then!"

She hurried off and Slippy was left to sit in his booth. His heart pounded louder than even the conversations of the customers piling through the door. As he toyed with his fries, he tried to find his hunger again, but it had been exiled by his excitement. Nonetheless, he forced himself to eat. Anxiety caused his fingers to twitch as the fries found the whipped cream crest of his milkshake then found his hungering mouth. Slippy chewed thoughtfully, the taste washed out by the stream of thoughts pouring through his mind.

 _Is this a date? Did she ask me on a date? No! No, she just wants to talk. I don't want to get ahead of myself. I'll… I'll just see what she wants to talk about! That's it. Whew, heart, stop beating so fast. I thought I was a goner for a second…_

He slurped his milkshake and munched on his fries, fighting hard to not let his eyes follow her as she worked around the diner. Knowing she was there ignited intrigue within him, but he stifled it, knowing that now was neither the time or place. He munched a bit more fervently upon his fries and when he was done, he threw away his trash. His eye caught hers as he made for the door, the smile they exchanged secretive and warming his cheeks again. Slippy gave her a bashful wave and slid out the door into the sunlight.

 _She wants to talk to me. She really wants to talk to me!_

The thought made him equal parts scared and happy, morphing him into a jittery mess by the time he made it back to his apartment. He bee-lined for his laptop, throwing it open and impatiently waiting for it to awaken. When Slippy's laptop finally decided to rouse from its slumber, he clicked on the video call app. Frantically searching for Krystal's name, he scrolled past Falco, past Bill, past Lucy Hare, who had been perpetually on her Away status for the last five years. He clicked on the name "Krystal", which had shown activity in the last two hours, and let the app ring.

 _Come on, Krystal, I need you now more than ever!_ Slippy thought, watching the phone icon dance and bounce on his screen. Ring... ring… ring… And then nothing. The call stopped and Krystal's status flickered to Away. Slippy's shoulders sagged, his head drooping in defeat.

 _Huh, that's odd. I wonder what's up? Maybe she's at training right now?_ He glanced at the clock, trying to ponder what time it was on Katina. _I guess I'll try back in a few hours. I hope she's doing okay!_

* * *

It was not often that she got to escape the base in Katina City. When she did, she found a certain bliss in the quiet of the Katinan wilderness. While the arid planet was certainly a far cry from Corneria in population, it was busy enough to make it hard to think—especially with a thousand other brains constantly around her thinking their loud, obnoxious thoughts that were hard to block out. The constant chatter of others (both mentally and physically) drained her and so she had opted to skip out on returning to her dormitory after training. Knowing Panther was there waiting for her made her stroll slightly less serene, but Krystal tried not to think about him and his devilish smile.

" _My dear, we have a lot to discuss._ "

But she had not wanted to, not then and there. Her removal from Star Fox was too fresh a wound; revisiting the destruction of Cerinia would only antagonize her already unstable emotions and she understood that. And so, Krystal had shut him down. Hard, even—telling him to go to bed and that she did not want to hear what he had to say. Panther had laughed of course, reassuring her that she would, in time, open up to him and accept Wolf's offer. There was a vile taste on her tongue when she thought about it. The brand of Star Wolf brought back memories—particularly of Fox and his harsh opinion on the rival team. But Krystal had not dared betray a thought to Panther, telling the feline to shut up and that their conversation was over.

They had not spoken much since that night. Panther's advances had slowed into a gradual halt as he gave her the space she requested. He watched her sometimes in a quiet, curious fashion—jumping up once or twice wordlessly when she needed help with something, be it as menial as adjusting a mirror hung on the wall or closing a window.

 _I can't be gone long or he'll suspect what's going on and my cover will be blown before this even gets off the ground._

Civilization had faded from view by the time the vixen felt safe enough to open her communications. Amid the mushrooms and craggy hills, she felt secluded enough to be _safe_ , and picked a spot next to a particularly bountiful looking set of fungi. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she inhaled deeply. Her mental grasp reached out around her, feeling for any fauna or nearby set of prying eyes. She felt nothing but the natural energy of the planet itself and breathed a small sigh of relief.

Krystal pulled back the sleeve of her uniform, looking down at the communications device attached to her wrist. She flipped a switch, turning a small dial to reach a signal pulsed from a place much, much further than Katina City's military base. When she was able to connect, the vixen felt her heart flutter with sudden nerves. Was this really the right thing to do? For a moment, she closed her eyes, but her mind tormented her with the sight of Panther's face. Before she could talk herself out of making the call, Krystal activated her mic.

"Peppy," Krystal whispered. "Are you there?"

"Yes," came the reply, crackling from all the way in Corneria City. "Are you alone?"

"Yes. You?" Krystal asked.

"Yes. It's just you and me right now on this line. I had the security strengthened on it so no one can intercept this," Peppy Hare replied. A small beep emanated from the communications device and Peppy's floating head appeared in a hologram near her wrist. He looked aged since she had last seen him—perhaps working as the acting General for the Cornerian Empire had taken its toll on him.

"I like the outfit," Krystal commented, turquoise irises flitting up and down the hare's crimson general's uniform.

"I've been told only a hundred times that I can't keep it when a new General has been named. But, I guess it kind of suites me," Peppy replied, toying with his growing mustache. "How are you feeling?"

 _Lost. I'm feeling lost. I'm a stranger in a world I still don't understand. I don't even know if I understand myself anymore. Everything feels insane. Being here feels insane. Being with Panther feels insane. Even considering Wolf's offer under the ruse of spying on him for the Cornerian Empire feels insane. When does the insanity end? When does the normal come back?_

"I am fine," Krystal answered smoothly. "It's Panther I'm worried about. He's getting impatient. I think Wolf is really pushing him."

"How did Wolf even find out about your powers?" Peppy asked in concern.

"Panther is Cerinian. He told me that himself. I had known for… awhile. But I didn't think he could pick up on my powers. He must have some sort of ability himself," Krystal replied. _And then he told Wolf and now Wolf is begging for me to join his team…_

"Hopefully one not like yours. If he senses what you're up to, you could be in a lot of danger," Peppy warned her.

"I don't think he knows," Krystal shook her head. "I've been keeping up a thick mental wall when I'm with him, just in case."

"Good," Peppy said. "I proposed the mission today to a few of my colleagues. They fully support an attempt to arrest Star Wolf. Even though they helped so much during the Aparoid Invasion, their crimes in the Lylat Wars are inexcusable. And beyond that, we've received some… troubling reports."

"How so?" Krystal inquired with a slight head tilt.

"It seems Wolf's been doing some work for a few underground movements. Movements that could be working to undermine the peace upheld by the Cornerian Empire. If you could identify some of his contacts, we could ensure that these movements die out," Peppy explained.

 _It always gets more complicated._

"Then you want me to accept his offer?" Krystal asked, brows raised. "You want me to join Star Wolf?"

 _The long game? Can I even keep this up?_

"Only if you're comfortable doing this, Krystal," Peppy answered in that fatherly tone that brought a small smile to her face. "Your consent and safety is my top concern. I don't want you to do anything reckless, not even for something like this."

She paused for a moment to reflect. _Are you doing this for yourself? Or are you doing this for Fox?_ Krystal winced at the thought of him. _They had a hand in the death of Fox's father. You know this in your heart. Are you trying to do this to get Fox to talk to you again? Or is this some ploy to spite him in the end? Are you hoping that arresting Wolf will prove Fox wrong?_

But it was more than that. When she thought of Panther, she was met with duality. He was different than his companions. His actions were laced with tenderness—past the posing and flirting, he had never hurt her. Brief touches to his mind revealed no ill intent. If anything, they revealed another emotion—one that ever loitered in Krystal's thoughts as she pondered the black cat.

 _Intrigue. He's intrigued by me._

"I know that Star Wolf is a band of miserable scum. It's not right to ask anyone to speak with them, much less _infiltrate_ —" Peppy was saying as Krystal spaced back in from her cluttered thoughts.

"The Cornerian Empire has been looking for a way to track Star Wolf for years now. This is the best shot we're ever going to have," Krystal said adamantly. "I'll do it, Peppy. I just needed your confirmation."

"Krystal," Peppy sighed. His age showed clearly in the lines of his face, countless heartbreaks etched into his tired body. For a moment, beyond the connection of the communication device, she could sense flickering images. Soft brown eyes, a deep contrast to mint fur. A pair of sunglasses sitting on the dashboard of an Arwing. Blood on dark, puddle-ridden streets of the intercity slums. She felt her stomach churn and forced a mental blockade up—for her own sake.

"Peppy, I'll be okay," the blue vixen offered him a smile.

"I'd hate to ask this of anyone," confessed the acting General, his carmine eyes glossed with the birth of tears. "Especially you, Krystal."

"Peppy," Krystal said softly. She reached out as tentatively as she could to those melancholy memories, gently touching the surface of his mind with her telepathy. It did not take much to realize what it was he feared. The Cerinian gave a small sigh, her mouth curling into a half-smile to attempt to reassure him. "I'll come back."

 _Why are they always worried about me? They never look after themselves. They always think I can't handle this._

"Just promise me you'll be careful. This isn't some routine mission, after all. It could take months," Peppy replied. "I know you're a strong young woman. But that doesn't mean I'm gonna worry any less."

"Well, I suppose someone has to worry," Krystal said with a lightly bitter chuckle. "I am grateful you've placed your trust in me for this task. It will be difficult, but I will see it through to the end."

"Keep me posted when you can. Don't ever hesitate to get out of there if things get too hairy. Do what you can, only if it's safe," Peppy instructed her somberly. "And... Krystal. No matter what happened in the past, I care about you as much as I did the moment Fox brought you to the Great Fox. I don't think I made a mistake when I picked you to take my spot on the team. And I'll never think that."

"You talk like that because you're scared you'll never get the chance to say those words again," Krystal said without thinking, feeling his emotions surge and fall like tidal waves from the other side of the device. They were hard to blot out now, a raging maelstrom against her mental blockade. Careful to keep her tone airy and confident, the vixen finished with, "You shouldn't think that way, Peppy. We'll talk again soon."

The conversation ended on the frontier lands of Katina, the wind whistling over the arid highlands. Krystal took a moment to take in the scenery around her, hand touching the pale blue pendant at her chest. Contemplation of the future lay heavy on her mind, rooting her to that secluded hillside in the Katinan wilds.

Her people had believed that when they passed on, they dispersed into space, becoming the magic that gathered at the core of every planet. It was said their spirits dwelled in everything—from the wind, to the water, to the gaps between the stars. She wondered if her parents saw her now, watching her from the rough surface of the Katinan mushrooms, or through the dust that clung to her boots. She wondered if they were proud of her or if they would weep at how far she had fallen?

 _Carry on the mission. Do good in the world. Keep the peace. That is what we believed in. Cerinia may be dead, but its ideals live in the remnants that were left behind._

But did Panther feel the same way?

Her fingers brushed her shrunken staff at her hip. Its magic thrummed back at her, like a greeting from an old friend. The vixen smiled and the wind coursed through her hair, wafting in the smell of foliage and earth. For a place so unlike Cerinia, the Katinan wilds called out with the same primal voice. She mourned that she could not spend longer to escape into it, feeling every rock in her path and seeing every sight it wanted to show her.

The walk back to her hoverbike was full of repose. Her mind crafted up words to tell Panther—words she prayed she would be able to follow through with. For all of her touting and confidence, she still yet had doubt. Wolf and Leon were one thing—hardened criminals, backs heavy with sin and bloodlust. Panther… was different. He had come after the Lylat Wars, after the Cataclysm that had destroyed Cerinia… She knew his slate was far from clean, but he radiated with a different energy.

 _Those eyes._

She contemplated the way Panther never looked satisfied as she climbed onto her bike. His eyes always seemed like they were hungering for something. There was a shadow in his heart, she could sense it. But it was born from something different than the criminal scum she had encountered at Sargasso. Krystal could not put her finger on it, pondering momentarily over extending her telepathy to Panther the next time she saw him, then cautioned herself against it. Going on the offensive would do her no good—it would strike up suspicion and she could not afford that so early into the mission.

Time flashed by and before she knew it, she had parked her bike in the garage with the other vehicles owned by the cadets. Her mind was littered with thoughts, heartbeat racing the closer she drew to her dorm room. Krystal found her keys, fumbling with them a few times before eventually finding the key to her room.

 _Why am I so nervous? This is a mission. This is what I was trained to do. Keep the peace. Do good._

Another part of her replied.

 _Yes, but you didn't tell Peppy everything. You didn't tell him how Panther made you feel. You didn't tell him about how soft his touches are. About how he holds you at night, keeping the nightmares out. About how he hums when he's stroking your hair. About how he shows you the kind of love you need in your life. Someone who can withstand the darkness in you and not be afraid._

The key clicked into place.

 _About how you're scared that part of you is actually falling for him._

Krystal opened the door. Keeping her turquoise gaze on the door, she felt herself unable to look up at where he would be inevitably sitting on the bed. She fortified her mental blockade, still trying to find the right words to say to initiate the conversation she knew she would eventually have to have—words that sounded confident, words that did not sound riddled with the fear of a _spy._

"Panther," the blue vixen said only after the door had closed. "I want to talk to you."

She looked to the bed and found it empty.


	4. Reasoning

**Hello, this chapter is Panther x Krystal only and serves as a flashback chapter, detailing how Krystal came to be in the position she is now. Next chapter will be Slippy x Amanda only. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

Reasoning

 _Don't panic… don't panic. He has to be around here somewhere._

Her eyes swept the room, reaching out to feel for his presence. She sensed nothing—nothing but the tired cadets around her, eager for their own beds and a moment's rest from their training. Heart racing, the vixen leaned her back against the door, clutching her pendant at her chest.

 _He really is gone…_

It was not the mission she thought of first, but the emptiness. Cold as the eternal winter of Fichina, it gripped her heart in a chill that reminded her of the silence of space upon her Cerinian cruiser. Alone. She hated the thought of being alone. Krystal tried to calm her shaking hands.

 _Where could he have gone? Back to Sargasso? Back to Wolf?_ She paused. _Has he been playing me this whole time? Did he give up?_ She wanted to be relieved but she could not deny the growing ache in her heart. His sight when she returned had become familiar—welcome, even, on the stressful days. He would have been reading a book, shirtless in bed, reciting the words on the page as she came in—no matter how awkward or grandiose they were. He had only done it to annoy her, she knew. But it had been a nice tension-breaker from her training.

Krystal reached out again around her, feeling for his familiarity—his emanating smugness and courage. He was truly gone and she sank to the floor of her narrow-walled dorm. She pulled her knees up to her chin and gave a sigh.

 _How did this even happen? How did any of this even happen…_

She closed her eyes and tried to remember…

 **Two Weeks Ago -**

Heart still pounding over the confirmation that she had passed her flight exam with flying colors (no pun intended, said the teacher with a coy smirk), Krystal made her way to her room. She betrayed not an ounce of her excitement, maintaining her cool as she walked down the narrow hall to her room. Key already in hand, she thought of how nice her bed would feel after hours of studying and hours of flying.

 _Finally, a stroke of good luck._

Ill-fated thoughts ran through her mind as she opened the door, ready to be rid of her flight suit and ready to be enveloped in a warm, fuzzy blanket. A split-second passed between her opening the door and her fingers finding the light switch. Such a time would have been insignificant on any other occasion, but at that moment, it was not. She felt something, a presence in that moment, and her free hand pulled her staff from its sheath. The central jewel of its crest glowed, brimming with magic.

Panther Caroso sat in her desk chair, amber eyes staring up at her like a kitten caught doing something wrong. His rounded ears were back, his mouth pinched in a surprised expression. Her laptop had been opened and on it was an instructional video on how to repair a lamp. On the desk in front of him was her lamp… in shambles.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Krystal asked him, not bothering to be quiet.

"I was in the neighborhood," Panther said, posture sliding into suave confidence at once. He leaned back in her chair, resting the ankle of one leg atop the knee of the other. "And I heard you lived here now." His tone oozed with intrigue.

"I do, as you can see," Krystal said, gesturing to the room with her free hand. "So why don't you tell me why _you're_ here and I'll decide whether to give the Cornerians a chance at you before I wring your neck first?"

"So hostile," Panther laughed, gesturing to the bed. "Sit. I only came here to talk to you."

 _Talk? With me?_ The vixen slid her mental reach out to his mind, feeling for any thoughts of treachery. His smile broadened at her and he shook his head. "You need not fear me. This can be as simple as you would like it to be."

"A quick fight would be pretty simple," Krystal retorted.

"And who would be the victor, mm?" Panther asked, tail tip flitting back and forth. "You or me?"

"Care to find out?" Krystal asked and Panther chortled.

"My dear, you already know I do not want to fight you," Panther replied. "I come with a message."

"From who?" Krystal inquired with raised brows.

 _He's right. I don't sense anything cruel from him. He's really just here as a messenger? Could it be that it's a message from… from Fox?_ Her heart soared for a moment before it came crashing back down, remembering their last exchange. A slight tremble overcame her fingers, but it was her curiosity that lowered the staff's head so that it pointed at the ground.

"Close the door and I'll tell you," Panther answered simply.

She obliged. The door shut, secluding them from the hallway and any ears that would pry into their conversation. Her teal eyes crawled over him, taking in his muscled form in boring Cornerian attire. He had shirked his Star Wolf uniform for very obvious reasons and flecks of black make-up had come off of his facial tattoo, revealing it in disjointed segments.

 _I'm not a fool. I know who he is. I know what he is,_ the blue vixen reminded herself as she put away her staff. _That tattoo is a mark from the southern kingdoms of my homeworld. Xuten nuhae- Shadow warriors, in the Lylatian tongue. Guardians to acolytes and agents of the Cerinian Order. People like_ …Her staff hummed quietly in her hand, remembering a time long before. _… People like me._

Panther studied her for a moment. She raised her mental barricades immediately as she sat on the bed across from the desk chair. Her arms folded over her chest.

"Continue," prompted the blue vixen frostily.

"My message is from Wolf O'Donnell," Panther began and Krystal felt tempted to stop the feline then and there. Her intrigue outweighed her disgruntledness. "He wants to tell you that he would like to offer you a spot on Star Wolf."

"Absolutely not," Krystal said at once.

Panther laughed. "He knew you would say that."

"So why bother sending anyone?" Krystal asked.

"He sees you as wasted potential," Panther explained and Krystal felt herself startle at the statement. "Wasting away in the barracks, living a life with your head low. Answering to people that don't care about you, that see you as an ID number. It's tragic. Your potential is boundless and yet you…. Are here?" He motioned to the room with a hand. "I cannot help but wonder why…?"

"Well, I'm not sure if you have read the headlines lately, but my last job did not see things the same way," Krystal answered. "This place has given me a purpose again. Something I didn't have when I…" _Was kicked out._ "… Left." It was still too fresh of a wound.

"And that is their problem, not yours," Panther shrugged. "Fox McCloud's terrible decisions are not your fault. You need not suffer for him."

Her fur bristled at the sound of his name. She straightened her tail with a hand, smoothing it out with a stoic expression. Krystal's words came out stiff, robotic, "I'm not suffering. I'm doing a service. It does not have to be pretty. But it is not terrible."

"Why do that?" Panther asked in earnest confusion. " 'Not terrible' is no way to live."

"Make your point," Krystal shot back icily.

"Star Wolf will accept you for who you are. And most importantly," his knowing eyes burned like fire. "Who you were _meant_ to be. And before you speak, don't bother with excuses. Your wintery shield has little effect on me, my dear. You've put those barriers up to defend yourself because you're hurt. And now you're dwelling in that hurt, filling gaps with menial tasks and things you do not really care about."

"You do not know a _thing_ about me," Krystal said, knowing it was a boldface lie.

He laughed. "Silly girl, you cannot deny your emotions forever. You know that you cannot stay here. So don't bother with the charade. Speak freely to me. Otherwise, it's quite insulting."

"You don't know—" the blue vixen began again.

"I know a daughter of Cerinia is not going to be content to play guard for her whole life. What do you plan to do after this? Stay on Katina? Live on the base? Run daily routine patrols, maybe sometimes leave the city for a weekend at the lakefront? How can you be content with that?" Panther cut her off, each word a heavy hit.

 _Daily routine patrols don't sound so bad..._ Krystal thought but could not find it within her to even say. He was right—but she did not dare admit it. Her hands gripped each other in her lap, her posture never faltering.

"And what else is there to do?" She challenged with the quirk of her brow. "Run amok with a group of bandits?"

"Star Wolf is not a group of bandits," Panther said flatly, his ears back. "And I'm offended you have such low opinions of us. Perhaps our actions at the Aparoid Homeworld have gone forgotten…?"

"One good deed does not redeem one of their crimes," Krystal protests.

"And the contribution to the restoration of Corneria City?" Panther asked her. "Aiding the very people that want us imprisoned… I daresay we did not have to do that. We could have fled the aparoids after Pigma had destroyed Sargasso. But that was a wake-up call for Wolf. For the rest of us."

She had no rebuttal for that.

"We might not be pro-Cornerian Empire," Panther continued after the silence had ruled long enough. "But we're not _evil._ "

"Honor among thieves…" Krystal began. Involuntarily, she had reached out to his mind, feeling through the wall he had put up. She felt tendrils of emotions, radiating from what he was protecting. There was a hint of desperation adrift in his mind, coupled with the aura of sorrow. She felt the distant waves as best as she could, puzzled by her growing revelation.

 _He… pities me?_

"I want you to take time to think over Wolf's proposal," Panther stated firmly. "And when you've weighed your options thoroughly, I will accept your answer." But his mouth curled into a playful smile. "I think you know what answer I am expecting."

"I think you're wrong," Krystal shot back. "How shall I contact you with my even _firmer_ 'no'?"

"Right here."

"Pardon?"

"I plan to stay here until you have made a fully thought-out decision."

"You can't! This is the middle of a Katinan base. If they find you—"

"They won't. Unless you plan on telling them?"

His smile was smug. He knew the answer just as well as she did. The blue vixen sighed. "No. I don't." It was not a complete lie. She kept her mental barriers up regardless. "And where will you sleep?"

"Right there?" Panther gestured to the bed. "I think it's big enough for two."

"Excuse me!?" Krystal sputtered, face warming.

"Only joking," Panther smirked. "The chair will suffice."

And that had been the start of it. The next morning, between her simulation training and cardio work out, Krystal slipped away from the others in her class and messaged Peppy. It was a decision born from building anxiety and conflicting emotions. On one hand, she knew Panther was right—the notion of staying as a CDF officer for her entire life felt like a slow, withering death. On the other hand? The idea of running off to Star Wolf felt extreme, a betrayal to Fox and their memories together.

But then she thought of how they had parted and her resolve turned to steel.

 _I could do it._ The first treacherous thought coursed through her like a river. _I could join them._ Getting lost among the stars, seeing places beyond even the Lylat System… she felt wanderlust tug at her soul. The base had always felt cramped. There was no joy in the fighter formations they made when they trained. There was no freedom of expression on the blank walls of her dormitory. _It could be like… old times again._

A sharper part of herself responded. _No. What am I thinking? I work for the CDF now. And this man is a criminal. I need to talk to Peppy. Star Fox is done. It's never coming back and I need to accept that. Bury it. Bury it with Mother, Father, and Cerinia…_

Krystal typed up a quick message to Peppy, her finger hovering over the "Send" button for what felt like a lifetime before begrudging duty made her press it. Seeing as he was the acting General, she had not expected a reply so soon. But the hare was adamant they speak immediately. She found an even more secluded spot and opened her communications up for a call.

"I'm not sure I can talk long," Krystal said as Peppy's hologram appeared via wrist communicator. "But I'm not sure who else I can turn to right now."

"I can tell you're upset," Peppy observed. "What's going on, Krystal?"

"Panther's here," Krystal explained only after double-checking that no one else was around. "He says that Wolf sent him here. They want me to join Star Wolf."

Peppy, who had been drinking coffee when she was talking, spat out his drink. "He said _WHAT_!?"

"Shhhh, I know," Krystal tried to coax the hare. "Peppy. I think I should…" _Careful what you're doing. You cannot take this back once you go down this road._ "I think I should accept his offer."

Peppy's eyes bugged out of his head as he cleaned the coffee stains from his greying mustache. "And you said _WHAT_!?"

"No, no, listen. _Listen!_ " Krystal said quickly. "If I say yes, I can ping my location to you once I arrive at their base. You can find out where they've been hiding and you can send troops to arrest them."

"An infiltration mission?" Peppy asked thoughtfully. "Well… I admit. It does make sense. But are you really sure you can do this, Krystal? They're brutes. They could really hurt you."

"I've faced worse," Krystal remarked.

"I don't want you to be in danger," Peppy began.

"Peppy," Krystal smiled softly at him. "They can't do anything to me."

 _I am the daughter of sages. My parents fought and died for the greater good. I was raised in a society where I understood that to fight was to live. Subordinates of the Cerinian Order take on an oath when they are inducted—that they will never turn a blind eye to evil and do everything in their power to stop it. This would be a violation of that oath. I cannot dishonor my homeworld like that._

"Ughh… well, seeing as I'm the acting General, I have limited powers. Somethin' like this… I'd have to talk to a few other commanding officers to get approval for this mission. Can you buy some time?" Peppy asked.

"Of course. Let me know when you have an answer for me. If not… I'll… I'll put an end to this foolishness," Krystal promised him.

"Don't do anything reckless. That's an order," Peppy said, but smiled that fatherly smile that warmed her to her core.

"I know," Krystal replied and their conversation ended.

When her classes had concluded for the day, she made it back to her dorm. He was waiting there in her desk chair, the formerly broken lamp reassembled and sitting idly at the corner of her desk. His fur was ruffled, a tiredness about his eyes. Despite herself, she smirked at him.

"I thought the chair would suffice?"

"You're cheeky today," Panther remarked, not bothering to hide the exhaustion from his eyes. "Have you decided yet?"

"I've decided that you're a nuisance."

"How was school?"

"Fine."

"Learn anything fun?"

"Just some target practice."

Panther chuckled, his tone reeking with sarcasm, "Yes, because you _desperately_ needed that."

"I got best shot in the class," Krystal added.

"Heh, and no one is surprised, sweetheart," Panther grinned toothily. He gestured to a box of pizza on the bed. "I brought you dinner."

"How?" Krystal asked, eyes narrowed. _How did he manage to not only leave without getting caught but was able to order this in the middle of Katina City without being recognized… ugh. Peppy would hate to hear about that._

"I have my ways," Panther shrugged.

"I shouldn't eat this. It'll all go right to my stomach," Krystal glanced at the pizza.

"Cut yourself slack every once in a while. I looked at your provisions. Do you always eat so little?" Panther asked.

"It suits me fine," the vixen huffed.

"If I did not know any better, I'd say you were starving yourself," Panther remarked and Krystal felt his comment pierce through her with lethal accuracy.

"… Fine. Only if you eat some with me, though," Krystal said in annoyance.

"Oh? That's quite considerate of you," Panther's brows rose.

"If you don't, I'll eat it by myself," Krystal added quickly. "And that's the only reason I'm letting you have any."

"Not because I paid for it?" Panther prompted and the blue vixen's teal gaze narrowed.

"Don't test me, Panther Caroso."

She sat on the bed and opened the box. The scent of the pizza was beyond delightful, wafting to her nostrils. It was a blend of meat and cheese—coincidentally her favorite, but she did not say as much to him. Panther rose from the desk chair and sat on the other side of the bed from her. The pizza box sat in the middle. Krystal picked up a slice and bit into it.

 _It does taste amazing._

Panther picked up his slice as well, examining it carefully before biting into it. As he pulled away a chunk of it in his mouth, a giant string of cheese pursued his lips. It ripped off the pizza with a tug and slapped the feline in the face. A tad embarrassed, he met eyes with her and Krystal stifled a laugh.

"This food," Panther frowned. "Is not very easy to eat gracefully."

"I don't know why you're trying to be graceful. Not when you look like that," Krystal remarked, realizing her tone came out a little harsh. One of her ears flitted back and she quickly recovered. "It tastes really good."

"It does," Panther agreed after a second thoughtful bite.

"So what happened to my lamp?" Krystal asked after a moment of silence between the two.

"Ehehe… I was hoping you would not ask…" Panther admitted. "Let's just say… it was there to greet me when I came in. And I… ahem… did not see it…"

"You knocked it over?" Krystal asked.

"Coming through the window, yes," Panther shrugged.

"I'll admit it," Krystal began, thoughtfully chewing on her slice of pizza. "Your dedication is impressive."

"Wolf was adamant that I talk to you directly. I could think of no better place than your room," Panther shrugged again, taking a monstrous bite from his food.

 _And no better way than to crawl through my window… He's lucky I live on the first floor of this building._

"I still don't understand why he wants me," Krystal admitted.

"Why don't you believe in yourself?" Panther asked with a slight tilt of his head. "Your skills make you a desirable asset to any team."

"There are some who would disagree," Krystal remarked. Her stomach churned at the thought of Fox McCloud and she felt her appetite wither. She set down the half-eaten piece of pizza back into the box, her gaze glossing over with contemplation.

"Back on that train of thought again? You'll never get anywhere if you don't at least _try_ to move forward," Panther tutted. "And what a frown that is. Marring such a beautiful face, too. A tragedy."

"I should be arresting you, not having _dinner_ with you," Krystal grumbled.

"Would you like to try?" Panther asked, quirking a brow. "Arresting me, that is."

"It's crossed my mind," Krystal shot back and Panther cackled.

"I'd love to see that," provoked the feline with a smirk.

She hopped off the bed and faced him, folding her arms across her chest. "Then let's do this."

Panther's expression shifted into that of genuine surprise. Ears back, he gave a laugh a little louder than the vixen would have liked. It echoed off the walls, reverberating in the ground up until the moment she silenced it with a dainty hand over his muzzle.

"Can you please not be so loud?" Krystal asked him.

"You want to fight me?" Panther asked with incredulousness.

"If you want to," Krystal replied, feeling her confidence waver slightly. _In a dorm room? Am I insane? But I already prompted this, I can't just stop it now…_

"It would be my pleasure," Panther smirked at her. He rose off the bed, still donned in his citizen clothing. "But I am unarmed, as you can see. Would you really turn your staff on an unarmed man?"

"I don't plan on using it," Krystal answered and Panther chuckled.

"Confident. I like that." His tail danced behind him, flitting back and forth. "Don't hold back."

"I won't."

Those were her final words before she lunged at him. Their bout was short—a flurry of punches, dodges, and a kick to Panther's stomach that sent him nearly into the window sill. His hand snagged her wrist and she fell backwards. Her snout met his chest abruptly, stinging and causing a few agonized tears to form in the corner of her eyes. Instinct told her to move back to give the feline some room, but one hand had her wrist and the other was moving for her neck. She ducked under it, head-butting him so hard in the stomach that his back thudded against the window, messing up the blinds. His grip loosened and the vixen pulled free.

"Heh," Panther remarked. "Too bad we're not able to fight freely. This would be _fun._ "

She reached out mentally to him. His barrier was thinned from his concentration on what his body was doing. The corner of her mouth curled upwards with smug realization. With a second lunge, Krystal threw her fist at him, coupling it with a jarring slam of her powers against his mental barrier. He let out a small gasp, faltering in his dodge. Her elbow caught his ribs and her foot snagged behind his shin. As he began to crumple to the ground, his free hand snagged her by the back of her clothing and she fell to the ground.

Her landing was cushioned by his torso. She anticipated his arm to find her neck but instead, the feline laughed. Krystal rolled off of him, resting on her knees and looking at Panther as he cackled.

"That was clever," confessed the midnight-furred cat. "I yield, I yield… You're clearly far more superior in combat than I am." He gave a pause, a smirk about his features. "Now is the part with handcuffs?"

"Oh, please," Krystal's ears went back but she could not deny the warmth growing her cheeks.

Panther's hearty laugh swelled until the cat was uncontrollably rocking back and forth on the ground. Her face warmed even further. Cerulean and white fur bristled, she reached over to the bed and grabbed her pillow. Without a shred of mercy, the vixen hurtled it at the feline's face. It struck him in his open maw, his amber eyes flashing with surprise for a split-second before taking the blow. Head leaning back and face still buried under the pillow, he was quiet for a moment before she realized he was still laughing.

"Oh stop—" Krystal said moments before the pillow came speeding back towards her head. She fell backwards with an 'oof'. As she recovered from the unexpected assault, she tried hard not to smile, but the moment her teal eyes found Panther, she found his glee contagious. The vixen hated that she was smiling, hated that she felt, for a moment, liberated of the dread that had been plaguing her since she had left the Great Fox. Feeling good for once… was a strange sensation. She felt guilty for indulging in it.

"Stop it!" Krystal finished her previous sentence, lower lip puffing out in stubbornness.

 _Overgrown kitten…_

"I couldn't resist," Panther chuckled.

"Oh sure," Krystal retorted, still smiling despite herself.

But as sure as his glee had fallen over her, it faded with memories. Jarring images poured into her mind, unchecked by that dam she had built to keep them back. She saw Fox's smile as he bent over her, tickling her ribcages. She heard her own laughter in those memories, echoing like bells. She remembered how they had roughhoused back then, sometimes landing on the bed in giggle fits. What broke her from the string of torturous pictures was the aching of her own heart.

Her turquoise gaze found Panther and the familiarity became too real.

"Krystal?" Panther asked with raised brows.

Her fingers toyed with the pendant her parents had given her all those years ago on Cerinia. She did not want to meet his gaze, feeling the beginnings of tears form in her eyes. Heat radiated in her tightening throat, searing her vocal cords like fire. Her eyes burned. She did not want him to see her like this—she did not want _anyone_ to see her like this.

"What's wrong?" He asked her, tone gentle.

"It's nothing," she lied.

"Don't lie," He countered her and she quickly made sure she had a mentally barrier up to secure her memories of her conversation with Peppy.

The feline scooted closer to her. His hands found hers, de-tangling her fingers from the pendant's chain about her nape. Warmth radiated from his palms, enveloping her hands. His touch felt like home immediately, like a filling to that void in her heart. Her heart screamed at how much she needed that warmth to cover her, to make the feeling of abandonment go away.

The vixen's tearful eyes rose to meet his. Their brightness reminded her of twin suns in the infinite darkness of space. He held both of her hands for a moment, studying the way she still fought back her tears. When he lowered her hands into her lap, he followed up with moving to her side, one of his arms protectively wrapping around her shoulders. He pulled her close to his side.

"I…" Krystal began, but found herself speechless.

"You do not have to say anything," Panther said quietly.

 _He knows. He understands. Cerinia is gone. We can never go back. Fox is gone—he threw me out when I had nowhere else to go. No family anymore—my parents, my sisters, they're gone with our homeworld. Everything's in shambles…_

Her eyes cast about the dorm room.

 _What am I even doing here? What did I ever hope to accomplish by signing up for the Cornerian Defense Force? What was I thinking? Was it just a place to stay? Just a way to stay alive? Is life even worth living if you're only just barely getting by…?_

She looked to the feline next to her, studying his face and the tattoo imprinted onto his fur. _And him. He's the enemy. Or he was… I'm not even sure anymore. Would an enemy even do this? Would they be sitting here, comforting me?_

Had Fox ever done this? She could not remember. She did not want to remember. Krystal studied his jawline, his muzzle, the serenity in his irises. She studied how even in an unkempt state, he had a certain polish about his fur. His expression was calm, each exhale fringed with a slight purr that soothed her own haywire anxiety. The vixen felt her nerves straighten out gradually as they sat in silence.

"I am sorry if I upset you," Panther confessed.

"No. It's not you," Krystal shook her head.

 _It's me. Everything I touch turns to ash. I'm cursed._

She found that there were no words left to say—none that she could muster. Instead, she let her eyes trace his face for a few moments longer. He was a mesmerizing man; his eyes so easy to get lost in. She had not realized she was leaning forward. Not until their lips touched and the sensation of their light kiss sent jolts of lightning through her body. She pulled away, feeling her enamor dissipate from embarrassment.

 _Oh, spirits, what have I done now?_

Panther's ears pulled back and he dodged her look for a moment, clearing his throat. He hooked a finger into the collar of his shirt, adjusting it. Radiating from his body, she could feel the heat-ridden emotion of surprise.

 _That makes two of us._

"Well, I cannot say I expected that," he said to shatter the awkward quiet that had overcome the two.

"Don't think too hard on it," Krystal replied, rising up from the ground. Her heart thundered in her ears, her cheeks flushing beneath her fur. She extended a hand to him to help him to his feet—which he accepted with a wry smirk.

"I'll accept that kiss as payment," he teased.

"F-for what?!" Krystal shot back.

"For the hug," Panther shrugged and plopped down in her desk chair.

"When you put it that way, it sounds a tad…" Krystal began. "… _Risqué_."

"Oh _dear_ , what will the neighbors think?" Panther said in mock concern.

"I am sorry about that… I don't know what I was…" the vixen fumbled.

Panther held up a hand. "Worry not. I don't mind. Your comfort is my main concern."

"You're… you're just saying that because you want me to join Star Wolf!" Krystal huffed, skin still prickling with nerves and sensations, heart still aflutter.

"Heh. No, you're wrong," Panther shook his head. "Not everyone has secret agendas, Krystal. Some people care simply because they care." He paused. "I won't ask you to join Star Wolf. Not today, at least. Come, let's eat some more pizza."

And from there, it had begun to shift. His advances and teases romantically strengthened with every day—but they were not unwelcome. She knew she could have stopped him at any time. She knew he would have listened to her. She was no trapped damsel and he was no fool. Yet even still, Krystal could not deny the guilt she felt each time she silently fawned over him in the seclusion of that dorm.

Why had she let it go this far? The vixen dared not admit it, but in those moments when he held her and she felt his warmth against her, she felt whole again. Every night, she would question herself if she was using him. She feared she had become what she hated, but each tentative reach towards his mind yielded the same comforting result. He was blissful in those moments they shared together, even if it was a mere backrub at the end of a stressful day. And, Krystal silently admitted to herself, so was she.

So blissful, in fact, that she had nearly forgotten about her incoming, possible mission until Peppy texted her two weeks later with a request to talk.

And that left her in her current predicament. Sitting with her back to the door, she stared at the empty room before her. Abandonment felt cold, like plunging headfirst into the rolling ocean waves. She sighed. The tears had formed somewhere in her reflection of the past few weeks, but she did not let them fall. No one was there to hug her this time. She would have to pick herself up on her own.

Jaw set, the vixen shoved down her raging tidal wave of emotions. She rose from the ground with dread and abandonment nearly choking her, ears pinned back as she trudged towards her desk. The window was slightly ajar. She closed it, taking a glance at her clean desk. Her laptop had been pulled up and there was a notification. With a curious head tilt, the vixen clicked on it and it read:

 _ONE MISSED CALL – Slippy Toad._

"Oh," she said aloud, looking about the dorm. _I had nearly forgotten. It has been a week, hasn't it? I should call him back. Panther… Panther can wait._ She had told Slippy she would help him and she would have hated herself even more if she let him down. Taking her seat at her desk, she tried to erase the negativity in her mind, masking it with a pleasant enough smile. She scrolled over to the "call" button and clicked on it.

 _I hope you've been having a better day than I have, Slippy._


	5. The Second Report

**Author's Note:**

Hello all, sorry for the delay in getting this out. This is a chapter solely from Slippy's POV, similar to how last chapter was solely from Krystal's POV. Next few chapters should follow the formula from previous chapters. Thank you all for the feedback. I wish I could answer some of the questions that people have been asking but I feel like I might give too much away, so I'll hold off for now.

Happy reading! Please enjoy the wholesome frogs.

* * *

The Second Report

Slippy had always been a dreamer—in a very literal sense. Every night was a new adventure—some nights he was a hero equipped with a flamethrower and ninja-like acrobatics. Some nights, he rode a fearsome RedEye with twin machine guns strapped to his arms. Some nights, he could fly without his starfighter. When he dozed, he had no idea where his subconscious would take him. It was always a pleasant surprise… usually, at least.

That night's rendition was an attack on the high seas of Aquas. Situated on the deck of a Cornerian battleship, Slippy marched out of the deck with his navy blue cape swirling behind him with great bravado. Golden tassels swished with each of his wide-strides. His chin lifted and he pointed a gloved finger towards the enemy vessel with a merciless cry.

"Blow 'em to smithereens!" declared Captain Slippy and the cannons obliged with booming loyalty. As the enemy's ship sank in a flurry of smoke, dust, and fire, Slippy haughtily laughed and pulled out his flask. He took a sip. It was filled with apple juice.

"Cap'n!" exclaimed Slippy's first mate, who was none other than Falco Lombardi. The avian gave him a lofty salute. "Scanners are showin' something coming up from beneath us, sir! It's looking like a leviathan-class bioweapon!"

"A leviathan-class, ehhhh?" Slippy said with a thoughtful scowl. He adjusted his large bicorn hat and walked to the railing. Beneath the midnight waves, he could see the shadows stirring beneath them, swelling with the arrival of something undeniably sinister. Pupilless eyes glowed. Whatever it was, it was coming straight for them.

Gravely, Captain Slippy turned to his avian companion. "First-mate Falco. I give ye the wheel."

"The wheel, sir?" Falco asked, truly flabbergasted.

"Aye. The wheel. The leviathan's on our starboard side. I need you to get this boat to safety. This is a job only one man can solve," Slippy said, taking off his hat and rolling up his uniform's sleeves.

Falco grabbed the wheel and began to steer the ship away. Crewmen ran about the deck, securing themselves. The waves were getting choppier, their dark crests tipped with bubbling white foam. As if on cue, the heavens darkened the scene. Slippy scented the salt upon the rushing wind. It lashed out to the beat of his flurried heart.

"We're clear!" Falco declared. "Geez-louise, what the hell is _that_!?"

From the deepest depths of Aquas's trenches rose the leviathan. Its face was elongated, maw set with an infinite row of teeth. A dorsal fin jutted from its spine, curved and sharklike. Eyes dotted its face, soulless and cruel—filled only with the desire to consume. Fin-like hands clawed the air menacingly. Two tentacles danced in the sky, one of them clutching something colored a bright fuchsia.

"AMANDA!" Slippy exclaimed in horror as his would-be beloved waved her hands in panic.

"SLIPPY HELP MEEEEEEEEEEEE!" yelled Amanda Rana.

"Falco! Pull up alongside it. You're about to understand why they call me the—" He pulled out twin guns. Their barrels extended, enlarging to form miniature rocket launchers. "—The Battletoad."

Slippy "Battletoad" Toad – a name that, in hindsight, was not terribly good, threw himself at the leviathan's head, rocket launchers ablaze. With finesse only a god of war could master, he danced across the unstable Aquan waters, flinging explosives at the beasts endless rows of yellow eyes. Amanda's screams fueled his bloodlust. Slippy leapt high into the air with a dramatic spin. He clicked on the bayonets to his guns and threw them at the beast's snout, watching them stab into its flesh with jellylike blood spurting everywhere.

"LET GO OF MY LADY!" Slippy cried out, spreading his arms out wide. "Super Toad-Style Secret Art! Ultimate Battletoad Bellyflop of Doom!" Pulled by gravity, he rushed down at the leviathan, its bloodied snout lifted in fear—the fear of meeting its maker.

 _"Slippy! Slippy, wake up!"_

Moments before impact, Slippy jerked awake. Head spinning, he glanced every which way, looking for the battle on the Aquan high seas. No. It was gone. Falco steering the ship was gone. The ocean was gone. He saw his bed, still unmade from this morning. He saw his work sitting in a neat pile to his left.

"Umm…" a familiar voice began uncertainly.

Eyes still bleary from slumber, Slippy looked up at his computer screen, squinting from the light it emitted. Krystal sat in her desk chair, azure fringe a tad disheveled and her jacket clad tightly around her narrowed shoulders. Bewildered, she scooted slightly back from the camera, head cocked to the side in curiosity.

"I called and… I… I suppose your hand was on the accept button…" the cerulean vixen began with a giggle echoing her words. "Care to tell me a bit about your secret art?"

"Oh…" Slippy fumbled, melting into his desk chair. He sank until only his eyes were visible to Krystal and the vixen's laugh rang out like a cathartic set of bells.

 _I hope she didn't see all of that. That was embarrassing! I don't even think people can make miniature rocket launchers like that. And that bellyflop? Yikes!_ _Ugh if Falco heard about that, he'd never let me live it down…_

"I needed that. More than you know," Krystal remarked, rubbing her forehead. Dark circles had stained her face, resting just beneath her teal eyes. Her shoulders sagged beneath her jacket, her back hunched.

"Did you see anything in my dream?" Slippy asked shyly, sitting back up. He was certain his cheeks were rosy pink by now.

"You're a little far for that," she replied.

Despite her smile, there was something weighting it down. He thought to ask her, but something held him back. Briefly, he recalled the frost in her tone when they had last talked. As soon as the team had come up, she had shifted—withering before him like a flower stranded in winter's first snow. He did not want to see her like that again. It just brought back more memories from a time when Fox actually seemed to want to talk to him, when Falco was there to eat all their donuts, when Peppy was there to make them all make amends again.

"Anyways, I was just returning your call from earlier. I was… out for training, I'm sorry," the vixen replied.

"That's okay!" Slippy said, shoving away his internal debate and saving it for later. Jovially, he gave her a small, playful salute. "I was gonna give you my report, ma'am! If you have the time, that is."

"Oh? So you managed to talk to her again?" Krystal asked him, resting her chin on the curve of her knuckles. She leaned forward. "Let's hear it, then."

Slippy regaled the events of the past few days to her. When he spoke of how he had saved Amanda from the thugs, Krystal's brows arched high in surprise. Something returned in her expression—she shed the melancholy that had cloaked her. Attentive, her posture straightened itself over the course of her story. He noticed other things brighten about her—her smile, for instance, felt less stretched and unnatural. Her ears pricked forward to listen and the tension she had been storing in her shoulders ebbed away like a tide. When he finished his tale, he felt a small wave of relief.

 _I was getting worried for a second. She seemed so… off. But I guess it's probably the stress of training. Being a CDF pilot is probably pretty hard._

"It's troubling—the thought of these thugs attacking innocent people in the middle of the day," Krystal remarked thoughtfully, forefinger tapping against her chin. "I would be curious to see what the police found."

"I know, I'm curious too! But they wouldn't tell me, even if I asked. I'm not military anymore and well…" Slippy shrugged. "Not much I can do about that!"

"Well, you could use your status as Beltino Toad's son to get information. After all, since you're employed by him and he is contracted through the military to help with the Aquas colonization project…" Krystal began. "But that's neither here nor there. It seems this Amanda person has really taken to you."

"You think so?" Slippy asked eagerly. "Do you think I have a chance?"

"Hmm. If I were in her shoes, I could not see myself being so bold as to ask someone to meet with me unless one of two things were occurring—either I wished to pursue courtship or I had something vital to tell them. In this case, I am inclined to believe it is the former," Krystal hypothesized, her fingernails raking through her azure fringe. "But don't get your hopes up. There could be something else going on."

 _Too late,_ thought the love-struck frog as he rocked back and forth in his desk chair.

"I think I'm going to get her flowers," he blurted aloud, his eyes widening when he realized what he had said. Krystal's brows arched high again and he fumbled. "Ahhh! Um! S-so what's m-my next homework?"

"Well, you'll want to continue to get to know her. That's for certain. Despite your near-death experience with her, you're still acquaintances really. Mmm… This time, I want you to find out her favorite color and a hobby of hers," instructed the vixen after some careful thought. "After that, we'll move on from there."

"Color and hobby… I'm on it!" the frog said with a surprising amount of confidence. "Thanks, Krystal."

"And while these missions are a good base, don't… don't forget to just be honest and be yourself," Krystal added, her words souring in nature. "You don't want anyone falling in love with a fake version of yourself."

 _Ouch. Wherever Fox is, he probably felt that sting._

"I-I know," Slippy's head bobbed up and down enthusiastically. "Thank you for the advice!"

"Mhm," she answered, growing more aloof by the second. He could tell she was sinking into her own thoughts, her eyes glossing over with reflection. The frog did not stare too hard, but he could have sworn he spied the start of tears.

 _Er… maybe I should ask how she's doing… Ack. But how do I do that without upsetting her? Oh, she already seems upset, who am I kidding! I just need to be there for her. C'mon Slip, think! What to say, what to say… Oh! I know. Sure, Krystal's not a friend, but just gave me some good advice just now. Just be honest!_

"Say, I've been meaning to ask… How uh… how's… the whole… how've you been…"

 _Oh, this isn't going like I thought it would! Curse my anxiety!_

He took a deep breath and tried again.

"How have things been at—"

"Oh. Sorry, Slippy, I'm getting a call from Command. I have to go. Talk to you soon and good luck!" Krystal said and with the click of a button, she vanished from the screen.

"… the CDF…" Slippy finished, his words echoing into a silent, lonely room. He gave a sigh and leaned back in his chair. "Welp, there goes that."

As much as he hated to admit it, perhaps their conversation cutting off was a good thing. Though he loathed even the thought of checking his email, he knew it was probably filled to the brim with requests from his father on the colonization project. A sigh drew forth from the frog's mouth and he clicked his email, sky blue eyes glazing over at the whopping 104 unread emails. He reached down to his mini fridge and opened it, pulling out a canned iced coffee. As he cracked it open, he began skimming the first email, feeling his spirit wither inside.

After he had answered the first five emails, he clicked on the sixth and nearly jumped in surprise when he read its opening paragraph. The sender had been his father and though the title said "URGENT: Keep Alert for the Following Individuals", Slippy had not thought twice about the implications of what the email would contain. Written crisply, as was the way of Beltino Toad's writing, the email stated:

" _Good afternoon all,_

 _It has come to our attention that a group of thugs has popped up in Coral City from the recent ferries from Papetoon. This group is considered highly dangerous. Please contact the Aquan CDF Unit if you see any of the following individuals."_

The first mugshot sent chills down his spine. When Slippy stared into the malicious eyes of the weasel who had attacked Amanda just days ago, he felt his rage flare to life. The weasel's lip was peeled slightly back in a fanged smirk—knowing, cruel, and so lifelike that Slippy's stomach did a nauseating somersault. Leaning forward, his round, pudgy fingers gripped the edge of his desk. His mind flashed to the skirmish a few days prior, his emerald skin prickling with the remembrance of being tossed over the railing and into the dark water below.

Beneath the weasel's portrait, a name was displayed: ABE "SAVAGE" CALLIGAN. Slippy scoffed slightly. 'Savage' certainly matched the weasel's crooked sneer but it felt a little on the nose to be taken too seriously. He kept scrolling, unsurprised when he saw Abe's salamander friend listed immediately beneath him. The salamander was named "Louie 'Stabber' Urodela" and appeared to be wanted on three different planets.

 _They're both apprehended now. And a good thing too. As ridiculous as "Savage" and "Stabber" sound, I'm sure they got those names for a reason. And huh, they came from Papetoon? That's weird. I don't remember there being much gang activity there before. Ugh, they probably moved in when Star Fox disbanded…_

He felt slightly ill, scrolling through the list of faces and names with increasing discomfort. When he got to the bottom of the email, he quickly clicked away to the next unread message. Though he tried to read the subsequent email, he found himself unable to focus on the words. Gently, he pushed himself back from the desk, sipping his iced coffee wistfully.

 _How the heck did a bunch of Papetoonite bandits end up here of all places, I wonder? This isn't exactly an easy place to get a ferry to._

Something did not feel right. There were too many puzzle pieces scattered around but their pictures did not seem to form anything that made sense. He scratched the wide bridge of his nose, daring to click over to the email containing the mugshots again.

In this day and age, it was hard to determine who was from what planet anymore. Colonization and the booming economy had transplanted numerous families across the Lylat System. Toads and avians had moved from Zoness to Corneria. Dogs had moved from Corneria to Katina. Felines had moved from Katina to Macbeth—so on and so forth. Yet Slippy could not help but notice the attire in each mugshot was different. One of the thugs was wearing a thick coat, rimmed with faux fur on its hood. Another was wearing a tank top, sporting an intricate sleeve of tattoos. Yet another was donned in a lightweight jacket and plain white T-shirt.

 _I'm not on Star Fox anymore but I am a citizen of the Cornerian Empire. And I'm part of the Aquan colonization project. I don't have to be military to care about what's going on._

He clicked on the message and forwarded it to Krystal, typing up a quick message:

 _"Hey, sorry to bug you but these guys have been causing trouble on Aquas. Do you have a way to access their criminal records? If so, can you send me what you know? Thanks!"_

 _I don't know if she'll be able to give me what I need to know or not, but it's worth a shot._

He went back to his work after sending the email, grinding into it as the long hours dragged by. Bedtime came early for him but he spent the first hour of it staring at the ceiling with his nerves about his meeting with Amanda keeping him awake. He tossed and turned, clinging onto his sheets with frantic hands. When he did fall asleep, it was gradual and rewarded with a nightmare about showing up to his date without pants on.

Waking up was a blessing after his turbulent dreams but he felt less pleased when he saw that he had woken up two hours before his alarm. Restless, he got up and made coffee. Donned in his pajamas, he checked his emails again, feeling no motivation to sift through them. Slippy forced himself to regardless, flagging a few to check over later on, after he had gotten some work done on the system model for the future railway. He finished his coffee, grabbed something comfy to wear from his closet, then began his morning routine. After a brisk shower, he went through his skin care routine (after having suffered a fair amount of warts in his youth, his mother had insisted he go on prescription skin care products—something he had carried on doing into adulthood) and then donned his outfit. While it was not a particularly nice outfit, he told himself that he would find something to wear for tonight later, when he had finished beating railway system models into his brain.

The rest of his day, until 3:30pm Aquas time, was spent on work. Though some of it was mind numbing and tedious, he enjoyed constructing the various models for the trains. The software his father had provided for him made it possible to generate hologram images of what he was creating on his computer, and every now and then the frog would pause to look over the hologram fondly. With the flick of his wrist, he would spin it around, turn it upside down, add random components to make the train look funny, and giggle.

When it became time to look for something to wear for his presumptive date, he rifled through his closet. Increased panicking led to tiny beads of sweat dotting his brow, but he quickly wiped it away, flicking on the fan to offset the heat built by his nerves. He pulled out a nice red polo, feeling it cling to his curves as he pulled it over his head. He took a gander at himself in the mirror. Between the polo and his khakis, he felt moderately dressed up—nice enough to possibly take a girl on a date but not so overly nice that it would surely make things awkward if they were not on the brink of dating. He fiddled with the buttons for a few moments before declaring himself fit to depart.

The diner was brimming with life when he stopped by. A gentle roar could be heard from within each time a patron exited or entered the building. Slippy paused outside of the doors, feeling his pulse lodged into his throat. Its beat reverberated through his skull but he willed his sweaty hands to grab the door handle. He walked in, the aroma of burgers and fries catching his nose. People were crowded in booths. Waitresses hustled to and fro in the aisles. A jukebox played but its jazzy tune was drowned out by the chatter.

Slippy caught sight of Amanda, holding two small serving trays in her hands. Her balance was impeccable as she dodged and weaved through the crowd. Her sapphire irises found his, starlight twinkling in her eyes for a moment. The moment she broke her gaze, they seemed to dull, as though the joy had been sapped out of them. She smiled at her customers as she delivered their orders, giving them a polite bow before hurrying towards Slippy.

"Is it 5 already?" marveled the pink frog in wonder, checking her elegant silver watch. Her hands clutched the trays to her torso. Some mustard stained her apron. "My goodness. I had no idea. S-sorry, but it might be a few minutes longer. We're rather busy tonight!"

"That's fine!" Slippy replied. "I can wait. Erm… is it okay if I wait outside? I think your waiting area is a little full…" He gestured to the cramped bench where there were at least 3 families competing for space.

Amanda winced but nodded to him. "I'll be as quick as I can!"

"No rush!" Slippy insisted and sidled out the door into the freedom of fresh air and relative quiet.

Amanda emerged a few minutes later, her bow slightly askew and her apron smeared with even more mustard. She still looked great in her uniform. Despite how worn her expression was, her tired smile still felt genuine and there was a slight skip in her gait.

"Whew! I guess we had a lot of people excited that we opened up again. I haven't seen that many customers in awhile," Amanda remarked, then pointed across the street. "There's a bench over here. Let's talk."

 _Bench… talk… Oh my goodness. Oh my gosh! She's going to ask me to be her boyfriend._

Knees rattling with anxiousness, Slippy trundled after Amanda, spying the bench she had mentioned. She sat down, smoothing out her apron and skirt beneath it. Her thin fingers began putting her bow back where it belonged. Slippy felt his bottom thud against the bench, his legs feeling weighed down by his ocean of emotions.

"W-well, it's good t-t-there's so many customers!" he managed out, smiling despite the bounce in his leg. "M-m-m-means you won't go out of business!"

"I suppose so!" Amanda replied lightly. "If we keep up the customers and have less of… well, what happened the other day. Which is… what I was wanting to talk to you about…" Her sunshine smile faded, clouded with sudden worry. Her focus trailed down from Slippy next to her, until she seemed to be looking any way but his direction.

"Oh?" Slippy asked her, feeling his anxiety break into an uncanny calm.

 _This is it. This is where she's going to ask me. Oh gosh, what if I mess up? What if I forget to say yes? What if I faint before I CAN say yes?_

"I wanted to tell you…" Amanda began.

 _Yes. Yes, I think you're beautiful. Yes, I know we don't know each other very well. But you're like a ray of sunshine on the cloudiest, rainiest day. You're always smiling. Even now, I can see how you're trying not to smile. You're just tired. But that's just a cloud over your rays. You'll shine through soon._

"Erm… how to put this…" Amanda faltered, but like everything else she did, it was a graceful verbal misstep.

 _You're probably richer than over 80% of the entire Lylat System but you're here. Working a job that you definitely don't need… just because you want to. Just because you care about the people here. Always smiling. And that's… that's beautiful! YOU'RE beautiful! Both inside and out!_

"… that I think the diner's owner is in some trouble," Amanda finished.

 _What?_

"Huh?" Slippy asked her, eyes wide. Well that was… an unexpected turn.

"I think the owner of the diner, my boss, is in some trouble," Amanda repeated herself, but more firmly this time.

He felt parts of his brain crash. As his thoughts went haywire, he stared dumbly at the pink frog, mouth partially open in a doofy expression. She blinked. He realized there was some saliva gathering in the corner of his mouth. Slippy was not fast enough to catch it before it dribbled out. He wiped it quickly away with the back of his wrist, thoughts reeling.

 _Oh. That's not what I expected. Not at all._

"W-what makes you say that?" Slippy managed, scratching his neck. _Darn it. Well… I guess Krystal and I were both wrong about this. Oh! Well, even though this is kind of a bust, maybe I can still do my homework while I'm talking to Amanda…!_

"Well, after the… the _fight_ …" Amanda began delicately. "I spoke with the manager and he seemed rather troubled by everything. But not in a way I was expecting. He asked if they had taken some of the money from the cash register. I told him 'no'—which is the truth, I promise it! But all he seemed to care about was the money… He even had us pushing sales hard this last week. And one of the other girls was saying he was mumbling something about a "quota". I'm starting to think the thugs knew him…"

 _Oh geez, this doesn't sound good at all._

"You think maybe he owes them some cash and they were trying to get him to pay up the other day?" Slippy asked. "That's awful. Especially since he dragged you into this! Did… did he even ask if you were okay…?" He could feel his blood start to boil again with budding anger.

"He did!" Amanda nodded fervently. "But still, he seemed more concerned about what they took rather than what else they did. I just thought it was odd, so I did some asking around. I… I guess those thugs have some friends that live in the city. And not too far either."

"Well, it's not a very big city. Not yet, at least," Slippy commented with the tap of a finger onto his broad chin.

"So what I was going to ask is… Well… you're Slippy Toad from Star Fox. You guys… You guys can do anything. Maybe even… talk some thugs out of terrorizing our manager?" Amanda asked, honeysuckle voice breaking only once with a tiny quiver.

 _We can do anything? More like we COULD do anything… We're not a group anymore. It's just me._

"Um… well…" Slippy fumbled. His thoughts were a sea of scrambled, abstract concepts. They could not form words, but they could form fragmented images. He remembered the Lylat Wars and how he had always felt like he was falling behind the others. He remembered the Saurian Crisis, where he had tried his best to help but Fox had really done all the leg work. He remembered the Aparoid Invasion, still feeling like he was drowning while everyone else was swimming. Self-doubt seared his confidence, charring it until it was no more than dust.

 _Am I strong enough to do this by myself?_

"I…" Slippy began but he caught her eye.

She was an angel. The fading light from Lylat haloed the bow atop her head. There was still hope in her eyes—a soft burn of determination that stuffed Slippy's words back down his throat. Hands folded politely in her lap, she waited for his answer with such inspiring faith that he felt his confidence rise again like a phoenix.

"Of course I'll help!"

Fateful words. Fateful words that spooked Slippy Toad to his core.

"Oh, I knew you would! You're a hero after all!" Amanda cried out joyously, throwing her arms around him. Her curves were soft, pleasant to be snuggled into. He felt his face grow hot with nerves as she pressed into him, her breasts cushioning just below his jawline. When she released him, tears sparkled in her eyes. Her face neared his in slow motion, lips puckered slightly to plant a tender, gentle kiss onto his cheek.

 _Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh!_

"Eep," he squeaked softly, lips pinched together and eyes wide as saucers. "I… I ahem… T-thank you!" He said shrilly, certain he was as red as Solar by now.

"No, please. Thank _you_ for helping me," Amanda smiled at him. "I know you won't let me down. And um… if you need any help…" She tucked back a strand of her bow that was blowing in the sea-scented breeze. "I will try my best to be brave. Like you."

 _She really is an angel. How could anyone deserve her? I certainly don't._

"I… I'll do my best if… if you will!" Slippy said with a smile.

"Promise!" Amanda smiled back, extending her hand and lifting a pinky. He hooked his pinky around hers and they shook on it.

"I-I'll need some time to look over everything. Get notes and stuff. I'll… um… H-here. Let's swap phone numbers," Slippy suggested, face warming even more when he realized what he had suggested. "If you want to, that is!"

"Certainly!" Amanda beamed at him, pulling her phone out.

They exchanged phone numbers and he caught a glimpse of her smiling at her phone screen. Its white light basked over her features.

"Whatcha lookin' at?" Slippy asked.

"Oh just… I like to put the little emojis by peoples' names. I put… a star and a frog face by yours," Amanda replied. She turned the screen to show him. "I think it fits."

"Ah… that's neat!" Slippy nodded. "I like it!"

"Good," Amanda replied. Arms behind her back, she tilted her head at him. Though her gaze was soft, she was clearly prying for something. He felt her cut away at his nervousness, deciphering each time he shifted his position.

"Ahem… erm… well… I…" Slippy stammered. "I um… I should probably…" _Get started on my mission. Not that I really want to. I mean, sure, I want to help her. But I… I kind of just want to find a way to keep this moment last. If I could get it to last forever, that would be great. But I know that can't be the case. Even if it's just for a few more seconds, I'll be glad…_

"Text me," Amanda said suddenly and Slippy felt his thoughts crumble to pieces. She smiled, as if knowing the statement was jarring. "If you need anything, that is."

 _Anything…?_

"Same to you," Slippy replied.

She nodded, smiled, then stood up. "Well. I should probably head home now. My father will be expecting me for dinner. I'll talk to you later Slippy, okay?"

 _Oh. Right. I guess this really isn't a date after all…_

"Uh huh!" Slippy replied with a vigorous nod. Amanda waved and began down the sidewalk, leaving him to stare after her retreating form. His heart ached for reasons he could not put words to. He could not be mad—not at her. Never at her. But he felt… a surge of disappointment in the events of the evening.

Yet it all disappeared the moment he remembered her soft peck on his cheek. He touched the spot reverently, feeling his insides stir with mixed emotions. Perhaps things had not gone exactly as he had foreseen. But there were still plus sides to the night! For starters, she had kissed him. And now they had each other's phone numbers!

 _What do I make of all of this?_

A part of him ushered him to take things slow. One step at a time. He shoved his hands into his pockets, his sigh so big that it deflated his posture. The walk home was not a march of pride, but a contemplative sulk.

 _I'm an idiot. I shouldn't have just assumed she wanted to date because she wanted to talk to me. There's a billion and a half reasons to want to talk to someone other than wanting to date them. I'm an idiot. Ugh!_

And yet, another part of himself chimed in.

 _But! She kissed you! And she gave you her number. It's a START, at least! Expecting to dive into a date so fast was a mistake, Slippy, but it's okay! This is still a step in the right direction. Time to reel ourselves back into reality. Let's just see where things go. Let's just calm down and—_

His phone buzzed. Pausing his walk back to his apartment, he pulled his phone out and checked the unread message. The sender was Amanda Rana. Heart skipping a beat, Slippy opened the text, his fingers moving so fast that the touch screen on his phone barely registered it.

" _Hey! Just wanted to test this out and make sure this is the right number. It's Amanda!"_

Without a second thought, he began typing up his reply.

" _Hey Amanda, it's Slippy!"_

He paused. Should he write more? Inhaling, the frog let his fingertips dance over the keys. His internal debate over sending more was ended with a silent, fearful leap of faith.

" _I'm glad we got to talk! I'll get to work on finding out who those thugs are soon. Don't worry!"_

Slippy hit send, fretful of the hollow promise he was making. The skin of his pinky finger itched with remembrance of her touch. He tried to exhale out his stress but it lingered like a bad odor.

 _Yeah, don't worry because I'm the one who's gonna be worrying when they try to beat me up. I have no idea how I'm gonna do this. Maybe I can try to call Falco or Fox. Maybe they could come help…_

But something about that felt wrong. It felt like asking for their help was admitting defeat—admitting that everything was too _big_ for him. Too _hard._ Fox had always been the one to steal the show and spotlight. Slippy had never blamed him; he was a natural ace in a ship and he had good looks to boot. But when everyone was in trouble, they always looked to Fox. They always expected him to have an answer.

 _Maybe that's why he disbanded the team. I'd get tired of that all the time too._

This time, he would not rely on Fox. He would not place his burdens on his friend.

He reached his apartment as Lylat began to dip below the watery horizon. Vivid colors spilled over the calm ocean, the warmth brought by the day fading out into a luscious violet that would soon turn to charcoal black. The lamps began to come to life, one after the other in an illuminated domino effect. They guided him up the rickety metal stairs to his top floor apartment. Tossing in a TV dinner into the microwave, he gave a hefty sigh and began to peel off his shirt. As he threw it into his laundry hamper, he lamented dirtying it for what felt like nothing. Shirtless, the frog flopped back-first onto his bed and stared at the sterile white of his ceiling.

It was only his hunger that roused him from the comfort of his bed—hunger goaded by the incessant beeping of the microwave. He plodded into his desk chair, stabbing into his dinner and opening it up to let the steam out. Instinctively, he pulled his phone out of his pants pocket and set it down on the table. The screen beamed with a new message—another from Amanda. He opened it immediately, feeling his heart leap.

" _I'm happy I got to see you too! Maybe next time we can do this over dinner or something. I know a good burger place nearby._ _"_

His smile was insuppressible, his breath edged with a chuckle. Though his fingers trembled, his heart wove together sentences, his hopes guiding each press of the button on his keyboard. Anxiety nagged at the back of his mind but his hope swatted it away.

" _Sure! Just let me know when."_

His brain poured over each and every word—making sure he spelled everything correctly before he forced himself to hit send. His body sang with glee as he looked up from his phone screen. The small tremors of fear had gone away, replaced with a full-body calm inspired only by the revelation that she wanted to have dinner with him. Slippy drew in a deep, content breath. His excitement had stilled his fidgeting. Bliss rolled over him and he leaned back in his chair, feeling the high of being on Cloud Nine.

In his peripherals, he caught a glimpse of a message notification on his computer screen. His head cocked. With a click, Slippy pulled up his text conversation with Krystal, brows arched when he remembered that he had previously asked her to look into the thugs. She had messaged back:

" _I'll let you know what I find out. Good luck tonight."_

He clicked over to the message sent by his father with the mugshots. If there was a place to start, this was as good as any. TV dinner still smoking, Slippy cracked his knuckles and began pouring over the email in utmost determination.


End file.
